


As Long As Stars Shine

by morrowdreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Destiel - Freeform, Oral Sex, bisexual!cas, bisexual!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:09:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrowdreams/pseuds/morrowdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester joins the U.S. Navy after Mary's death in a tragic, if not suspicious, house fire. The Winchesters are stationed on Pearl Harbor Naval Base in 1941. Dean's opposition to the transfer dissolves when he meets Cas Novak, the son of the base's main architect, and the two become good friends. Their time together is cut short when Sam and Dean are orphaned by the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Dec. 6th, 1941, and sent to live with their Uncle Bobby back in the Continental US. Cas and Dean's fates are intertwined, though, and the two meet again just as dark secrets about Mary and John's deaths begin to surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE:

Nov. 2nd, 1933--Lawrence, Kansas

It started in the middle of the night with no warning. Four-year-old Dean woke to the sound of his father, John, yelling _“FIRE! FIRE! EVERYBODY OUT, NOW!”_

Dean’s eyes flew open only to be greeted with yellow and orange licks of fire climbing the walls of his room, running across the floor to his bed. Biting his lip to keep from screaming, Dean hopped past the flames and into the hallway. His father was there, strong, steady, and confident. He had a bundle in his arms and he turned when Dean entered the hallway.

John Winchester strode quickly towards Dean and passed him the bundle forcefully. John looked into Dean’s eyes as he firmly placed the baby in Dean’s arms. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean! Go!”

Dean didn’t hesitate. When John Winchester told you to do something, you didn’t ask questions. Dean turned and sprinted down the hallway towards the stairs, careful of his baby brother in his arms.

“We’re going to be okay, Sammy,” he said. “I got you, buddy.”

Dean ran down the stairs two at a time and dodged the small fire that had started in the main hallway by the front door. He swung open the door and ran over the front lawn, turning onto the sidewalk that would lead him to the neighbors’ house, to safety.

Dean banged on the Turners’ front door with one hand while the other clutched little Sammy to his chest. After some bumping around a muffled cursing, Rufus Turner, a big black man, opened the door and squinted out into the dark night. Dean couldn’t trust himself to speak so he just shoved Sam into the man’s arms and then turned back towards the street, determined to go back and help his parents.

Rufus strode across the creaky front porch and in two short steps was behind and grabbing him roughly by the arm.

“Whas the matter, boy? Whas the rush, little man? Tell ‘ol Rufus whas bothering you. Come on, boy, speak up.”

Dean gulped. “Fire. My dad…and Mommy. Sammy’s safe. But there’s a fire,” he said quickly and in a hushed tone, for maybe it Mr. Rufus didn’t hear him, it wouldn’t be true.

“A fire? Your house is on fire, boy?” Rufus released Dean’s arm and brought his hand up to rub his eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Get on back, son. I know you need to be there. Go find your Daddy and Mommy. Go on now I’ll take care of little Sammy here. Go on, get!” Rufus turned away from Dean and walked back into the house, hollering for Mrs. Turner to call the fire department, and quick.

Dean turned and ran. He ran so fast that it was hard to breathe. When he turned the corner and saw his house burning like a beacon at sea, he slowed his pace unconsciously, horrified by the sight. But he remembered that his parents were inside, and he ran harder. He paused only slightly to test the wooden floors before stepping past the open front door and into the hallway. He took the stairs as fast as he could while still staying away from the flames that were slowly consuming them from the bottom up.

Once upstairs, Dean called out for his father but his voice was cut short from the smoke gathered in his lungs. Coughing into his arm, Dean moved down the hall, looking into every room for a sign of life.

Suddenly, his father appeared in front of him, looming up out of the dark smoke until he was less than a foot from where Dean stood. Seeing Dean crouched low to the floor, John stooped and picked up his son and started for the stairs.

“Dad. Dad,” Dean said weakly, “Where’s Mom? What about Mommy?”

John didn’t answer but shifted Dean to a more secure position as they started down the flaming stairs.

They were on the second step when the first step collapsed and fell to the ground. Caught off guard, John stumbled and fell to the ground, Dean slamming down beside him. John’s head collided with the edge of the table that had previously stood against the wall but had fallen in the heat. Dean, dizzy but awake, crawled over to his father’s head and stared at the blood blossoming out of the gash on his father’s forehead.

Nearby, a beam from the ceiling fell as the bolts holding the trusses together melted under the extreme heat. The loud boom shocked Dean into action. He grabbed his father’s hands in his own and pulled with all of his might. John moved an inch across the floor and Dean collapsed in exhaustion. Refusing to give up, Dean stood up and tried again, this time making it a foot closer to the open door. He was grabbing his father’s hands for a third try when he felt the man’s fingers tighten around his wrists and John’s eyes flew open.

John sat up urgently, only to be forced back by a wave of heat followed by a dizzy spell. He began to inch along the floor and with Dean’s help, they both made it to the front door and out onto the front lawn. Dean turned back to the house quickly to search for a way in to find his mother, who was still trapped inside. Just as he was about to sprint through the burning the burning doorframe to find her, Dean felt a crushing weight come down on his shoulder, forcing him to kneel.

Turning his head, Dean saw his father’s hand gripping him tight, fingers working into the material of Dean’s pajamas. His eyes were blazing, the fire from the house reflecting back at Dean menacingly.

“ _Dad. Dad!”_ Dean yelled, _“Let go of me! I’ve got to get Mom. Please Dad. Let me go! You’re hurting me, please. I’ve got to save Mom. Let go of me_!”

With every cry, John’s hand gripped tighter and tighter until the pain was unbearable. Panicked, Dean whipped his head back towards the burning house. Towards his mother.

Dean started screaming at his father to let him go, to let him go and get his Mom before the house completely collapsed and she was gone forever. He kicked, he scratched, he bit at anything in reach. Finally his fist collided with something solid: the side of his father’s face. As if shocked back into consciousness, John’s hand loosened on Dean’s shoulder. Dean, seizing the opportunity, wiggled out from his father’s controlling grip and sprinted back across the front lawn until he reached the front door, now completely burned away. Dean forced himself through the flaming archway, over the burning table that still lay overturned in the middle of the hallway, and up what was left of the stairs. Dean dodged falling pieces of ceilings and licks of flames as he ran through the upstairs rooms searching desperately for his mother. Following his instincts, Dean arrived in Sam’s nursery to find his mother crouched silently in the corner, her tear stained face locked in a pained grimace, and her eyes squeezed shut.

“ _Mom! Mommy! Wake up! We have to go, now! Mom it’s Dean come on let’s go please Mommy please come on let’s go!_ ” Dean screamed at the silent figure.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his mother opened her eyes, saw Dean, and smiled peacefully. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she got the chance, the ceiling of the nursery buckled and collapsed, crushing Dean’s mother and smothering any words that she would’ve said.

Dean stood in the doorway unable to move, unable to cry out for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes watering from smoke and tears, Dean become vaguely aware f burning sensation on his right shoulder and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Stumbling over his feet, Dean took one last look at the funeral pyre that had formed over his mother’s body. The burning on his arm intensified, bringing him back to the present danger, and squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the nursery. Away from his mother.

Dean dropped to the ground out of instinct and began to crawl towards the stairs, which had almost completely burned to the ground by the time he got there. Gulping down shallow breaths of ash and smoke filled air, Dean jumped from the second story just as the floor fell out beneath him.

He landed among a pile of broken floorboards and sawdust. He couldn’t feel his legs, didn’t know how many bones he had broken, but the searing pain on his upper arm pierced through his numbness and forced him to crawl the last few feet down the hallway towards the former entrance of his burning, recognizable only by the welcome mat which was burning away to nothing. A wave of heat passed over Dean and knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

That’s how John found him moments later, sprawled across the burning welcome mat, his shirt eaten away by the flames, a stray flame licking at the boy’s pants leg.

\--

John Winchester pulled his eldest son from the burning house at exactly the right time. At least, that’s what the doctors said. They said if he had come even a minute later, Dean’s lungs would’ve been too full of carbon monoxide he would’ve been dead within five minutes. Yes, John Winchester was a hero. All the newspapers in their hometown of Lawrence, Kansas, described John, the town mechanic, as he dove selflessly into his burning house not once but twice, first saving his six month old son, Sam, then returning to rescue Dean from Death’s doorstep.

Unfortunately, the papers said, John’s wife, Mary, was still trapped inside when the house finally collapsed killing her instantly. But the papers all agreed: if there had been a way to save Mary, John Winchester would’ve done it. He could do anything.

Dean, however, knew the truth. Every detail of that night was etched into his brain permanently, and none of it involved any heroic acts by his father. Dean kept quiet, though, wary of his father’s temper; he watched as the spotlight consumed John Winchester for the next two months. Watched as the casseroles and condolences arrived and began to pile up in the dusty motel room they were calling home. Watched as his mother’s empty coffin was lowered into the ground and countless speeches were made about the tragedy of Mary’s death and the miracle of Dean and Sam’s lives, made possible only by the self-sacrificing mechanic.

The fire Marshall visited their motel room one day, asking questions about how the fire could have started.  Of course, there was the drought that was sweeping the Great Plains. The lack of water had dried out the whole town, not to mention the middle region of the country. Something must have sparked within and the dryness of the surrounding house caught the flame and magnified it to an impossible degree. The fire Marshall scribbled some notes in his notebook, thanked John for his time, and left.

As soon as the door signaled the fire Marshall’s departure, John got up and grabbed his coat. Dean looked up from his grimy hands and watched his father with big eyes.

“I’m going for a drink. You boys stay here, lock the door, and don’t answer it until you know it’s me. Dean…Watch out for Sammy.”

And with that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

June 1941--Pearl Harbor Naval Base

Dean Winchester was used to being the only kid in an adult world. A few months after the death of his mother, John had enlisted in the U.S. Navy to get his mind off of the world around him and leave the tragedy of November 2nd behind.

By the time John was transferred to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, the Winchesters had lived on five different Naval bases, all the way from the East Coast to the Pacific Ocean. John was always the first to volunteer to transfer bases if needed, wary of staying in one place for too long.

The threat of war never bothered John. It was his job now, and if he had to fight, he would do so willingly. There was a bit of a scare in 1939 when Hitler invaded Poland and the war in Europe began, but President Roosevelt made it clear that the U.S. would remain neutral. While no soldiers were sent overseas, Roosevelt did make sure that the Allied powers of Europe were prepared militarily; a system of cash-and-carry allowed England and France to pay up front for supplies and come and collect them only after they had paid. This ensured that America could not be attacked while delivering supplies; it was England and France who would have to take that risk, since it was England and France who were at war.

Dean didn’t know much about the politics of the war in Europe, but he did know that when the time came, he would kill every Nazi in sight. Naturally, Dean was upset when his father came home with the transfer slip that would send the Winchesters to their new home in the Pacific. Staring at the slip, Dean felt his stomach drop. Hawaii was nowhere near Germany. “ _Hell_ ,” he thought, “ _it was nowhere near America_.” How was he supposed to kill Nazis when he was going to be trapped on some goddamned island?

Sam, however, was unusually happy about the move. He loved the ocean, loved its untamable power that had the uncanny ability of soothing his mind with its whispers. And of course, there was the matter of Lucie Attar, Sam’s personal nightmare. The stocky dirty blonde would find him as he walked home from the base’s library and corner him in some deserted alley. On one particular day that stuck in Sam’s memory, she winked at him just before kicking his legs out from under him. Her mouth formed a perfect “O” and her eyebrows raised in mock apology as she bent down close to Sam’s ear and whispered, “ _Next time it won’t be an accident_.” Then she straightened up, looking down in disgust on Sam’s figure on the ground, and kicked him hard in the stomach. “I just love talking with you, Sammy. You’re the only one who understands. We must be soul mates.” She laughed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder as she turned away, skipping gleefully back down the alley. “See you tomorrow, Sammy!” she called.

Sam couldn’t tell anyone about Lucie. He had to bear it alone. If he told his father, John would accuse him of being weak and would just be more disappointed. If he told Dean, Dean would be furious and would hunt down Lucie and probably beat her senseless. Sam didn’t want to admit to Dean that he couldn’t handle his own problems. He didn’t want to see Dean’s face looking at him with pity and masked shame. So Sam stayed quiet.

When Sam saw the transfer slip, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Finally, he could get away from this hell; he would be free.

And so, with Dean’s frustration and Sam’s salvation, the Winchesters made the move to Pearl Harbor Naval Base.

\--

            The first thing Dean did at any new base was scope the place out. For the first week he roamed around, forming a map in his head, committing every turn, every dead end, every shortcut to memory. If this was going to be his new territory, he had to know it by heart.

            His favorite place so far had been the Submarine Base on the east side of the base. Bordered by the fuel farm, it seemed to have a definite purpose; every building, every fuel tank, every dock had it’s own job to do, and every job was necessary to keep the base prepared for the future.

Walking along the shore, Dean marveled at the sheer size of the submarines that were docked just offshore. His eyes traveled along their sleek metal sides until they met the water and slowly melted beneath the waves. If Sam were here he’d be gushing about the color of the water in the noonday sun or the sound of the waves rolling up on the shore. Dean, however, loved the way the ship shone like a beacon under the bright summer sun and closed his eyes as he listened to the waves slapping against the submarine’s hollow sides.

Eyes closed, Dean continued on down the shore. Suddenly, his foot hit something sharp and solid, sending Dean tumbling to the ground. He rolled down he sandy dune, arms and legs flailing.

When he finally came to a stop, he was out of breath. There was sand everywhere, in his hair, in his clothes, in his mouth. He tried to sit up but lay back down gingerly when his head swam and he saw spots before his heads.

Dean figured he would just wait out the dizzy spell there on the warm sand. No one was expecting him any time soon and the summer sun felt glorious on Dean’s lightly freckled cheeks.

Suddenly, the light and warmth vanished. Dean opened his eyes carefully and squinted up at a dark figure standing over him. The sun in the background cast a sort of halo around the dark-haired boy and Dean blinked a few times as the boy bent down, his concerned face stopping mere inches from Dean’s own. Large blue eyes peered into blue.

“Are you okay?” the black-haired boy asked Dean, his voice soft but strong, cutting through the harsh harbor wind.

“Uh yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Dean pushed the boy off of him and slowly rose to his feet. He turned to the boy, eyes narrowed.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice came out harsher than he had meant and he inwardly cringed. He had always been awful at making friends. He searched the other boy’s face for any signs of annoyance at being addressed so sharply when all he had been doing was trying to help. The other boy’s face remained placid, but his head tilted slightly, his eyes openly questioning.

“I’m Cas. Well, actually, I’m supposed to be Castiel but no one ever says it right so now I’m just Cas.” The boy’s head tilted even farther as he timidly smiled. “And you’re…?”

“Dean Winchester. Just Dean. No fancy nickname or anything. Say, how come you snuck up on me like that? That was a real jerk move.”

Cas reddened slightly. “I was just walking around I guess. Nothing special. Saw you trip and fall down the dune. Wanted to see if you were okay I guess. I wasn’t spying on you if that’s what you think,” Cas glanced up quickly at Dean’s face and then looked back down at his shoes. “Everyone seems to think my family’s a spy. Just cause my grandpa came here from Poland I guess. But I’m as good a citizen as any. Never been a spy, never will be. Promise to goodness.” Cas lifted his eyes to meet Dean’s and Dean felt his stomach flutter. There was something about Cas that was different than the other base boys he had met.

“Well, not-a-spy Cas,” Dean said quickly, “What d’ya say you give me a grand tour of the place? I’m a bit new, just transferred here no more than a week ago. I’d love the inside scoop.”

Cas’s bright blue eyes sparkled irresistibly bright in the sun, “Right this way.”

\--

And so it was that the two boys became good friends. Cas and Dean explored every inch of the base, sneaking past NO TRESPASSING signs easily. Dean focused on Cas’s dark hair as he followed him through every back alley and shortcut the base had to offer. Dean learned that Cas had spent most of his life in Southern California with his parents and his other siblings. Cas’s father was a military architect and had designed much of the Pearl Harbor Naval Base and so Cas’s family was one of the first to make the permanent move to the base. Cas knew everything about the base and was allowed almost anywhere; he snuck into anywhere else he wanted to go.

In exchange, Dean regaled Cas with stories from the other bases that Dean had lived on. Cas’s favorite stories all involved Dean’s nighttime adventures.

“We should do that sometime,” Cas said suddenly.

“Do what? What lame ass idea has gotten into your brain now?” Dean asked warily.

Cas ignored the insult and turned to Dean as they walked down the dusty road towards the base’s drug store. “You know, sneak out one night and see the boats lit up all fancy.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All this time on this goddamned island and you’ve never once snuck out past dark? What a wuss.”

This time Cas struck out at Dean, punching him just hard enough in the arm to leave a sting. “Of course I have. Just…it’ll be different with you. Better.”

“Well, alright fine. You know I’m always up for breaking some rules.”

\--

The two boys set a date and time for their nighttime adventure. They would meet down by the Barnes building and go from there. As soon as he got home, Dean checked his flashlight’s batteries. He put the torch and some stale crackers in a rucksack and shoved it under his bed, careful to hide it from Sam. Sure that it was out of sight, Dean went to the kitchen to fix some dinner.

He poured some canned beans into a pot and heated them over the stove. Satisfied with his culinary masterpiece, he called down the narrow hall, “Sam! Time for dinner! Come on out.”

After a moment of bumping and shuffling, Sam blundered out of the door of his and Dean’s room and made his way into the kitchen, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Baked beans again? _Really_?” Sam turned his irresistible puppy dog eyes on his older brother, pleading silently. “Do I really have to eat this _again_? This is like the fifth time this week. Plus I already had them for lunch.” Sam stared woefully into the pot of bubbling beans.

“This is dinner, Sammy. If you don’t like it, you try being responsible for putting food on the table and we’ll see if you can do any better. Dad’s doing all he can, okay? So shut your trap and eat up.”

Sam huffed and crossed him arms over his chest. “Where is Dad anyway?” he asked pointedly.

“ _Damn_ ,” Dean thought. “ _There’s no way I was that annoying when I was his age_.” Aloud he said, “Dad’s working, Sammy. Working to put food on the table and clothes on our backs. Working to save our country form those goddamned Nazis. And if you don’t shut up about it, I’ll feed you to one of those Heinies myself!”

Frustrated, he plopped the wooden spoon in the pot and began stirring violently. Deep down Dean knew that right now his father was probably at the bar, picking up some cheap beer and cheaper women. But Sammy needed to be put in his place. He would make that little punk grateful for what they had, one way or another.

“Or…” Sam’s slow drawl cut through Dean’s private thoughts.

“Or what, you little punk?”

“Or you could let me eat my Corn Kix and I’ll promise not to tell Dad about your plan to sneak out tonight. I saw your rucksack under the bed,” Sam finished sweetly.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said, turning from the stove to face his little brother. “Sam. Sam listen to me. You can’t tell Dad. Please. Just eat the goddamned beans and don’t tell Dad.”

Sam’s face was triumphant; he knew he had Dean cornered.

“Sorry, Dean. No can do.”

“Dammit, Sammy!” Dean slammed the wooden spoon down on the counter. Staring at his brother’s soft determined face, Dean felt himself caving. “I must be going soft,” Dean muttered to himself as he cut the heat from the stove and walked over to the pantry.

“Knock yourself out, kiddo.” Dean threw the box of sugary cereal to Sam and went back over to the pot of beans. Not even bothering with a bowl, Dean ate the beans straight from the pot, grimacing as each slimy forkful slid down his throat. Still, better than nothing.

\--

Dean waited until well past dark before pushing back the covers and slipping into his shoes. He dragged his rucksack out from other the bed and shrugged it onto his back. Through the darkness he could see Sam’s eyes blinking in the moonlight.

“Remember, not one word, bitch,” he hissed through the darkness at Sam.

“Whatever, jerk.” Sam spat.

Grinning, Dean popped the window open and shimmied through. He gave Sam one last nod and disappeared into the darkness.

Not surprisingly, Dean’s father hadn’t come home, making Dean’s escape almost too easy. And if Dean timed it right, he could be back in bed before his father even made it through the front door.

Reveling in the calm and quiet of the summer night, Dean walked confidently to their meeting place at the Barnes building. As he got closer and closer, he could hardly keep himself from running to find Cas.

Dean didn’t know what it was about the strange dark-haired boy that made him feel so good, but he knew not to question life’s few blessings. Cas was his best friend in the world, no doubt, and it was exciting to have something so concrete in life. Something he could trust and depend on. Dean knew his father tried to be there, tried to be supportive, but he had other responsibilities that came before his sons, and Dean understood that and didn’t question it. But there is an irreplaceable bond between father and son that John and his children didn’t have. A sense of trust and complete understanding, no matter the situation. And Dean had found it in Cas.

As if on cue, the blue-eyed boy slipped out of the shadows a few feet ahead of Dean. His sudden appearance started Dean out of his meddled thoughts and his face split into a wide grin.

“Glad to see you could make it here tonight, Novak. I would’ve thought you and your family’d be too busy _spying_ , you know?”

Cas let out a sharp laugh and shoved Dean, “Very funny, Winchester.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence and made their way closer to where the submarines were docked. Every fifty feet a street lamp rose up out of the ground and shed yellow light in a rough circle. There was more than enough light for a guard to see clearly down the road, so the boys kept to the shadows as much as possible.

After walking for a few minutes, Dean spotted a break in the fence across the road and beckoned Cas to follow him. They crawled through the hole and ended up in a deserted scrap field, the grass just beginning to grow over the discarded metal the lay in heaps all around the clearing. Dean and Cas made their way around the scraps, searching for any hidden treasures. Finding nothing, they ventured further out, leaving the lights and the scraps behind and greeting the darkness readily. It was as if a million more stars burst into being simply because they had turned their heads and taken the time to look.

“Wow,” was all Dean could say. “You know, sometimes I forget the stars are up there. Because you cant see them in the daytime. And you can’t see them at night unless you really look. But when you do look…when you do look it’s like a window into a different world.”

“I wonder what it’d be like, to live in a different world, I mean. Would you start over? Completely change?” Cas wondered aloud.

“I wouldn’t start over if it meant losing my best friend,” Dean said matter-of-factly. He stole a sideways glance at Cas and found the other boy smiling at him, eyes wide.

“I’m…I’m your best friend, Dean?”

“Course you are, Cas. I mean, you more than that, though. I don’t know I just…You’re like family to me.”

The two boys sat side by side, heads tilted towards the sky, content to just be with one another.


	3. Chapter 3

Dec. 6th, 1941—Pearl Harbor Naval Base

Dean and Cas began meeting regularly and sneaking out to the empty field to look at the stars. It was already December on the base; to Dean it seemed like just yesterday when he had first landed on the “goddamned” island, not seven months. Looking back, he was grateful for the transfer; without it he would’ve never met Cas.

When he was with Cas, Dean knew he was the luckiest kid in the word. Who else had someone who understood them so perfectly? Who else had someone who made them feel whole?

Dean and Cas sat under the stars for the third time that week, heads tilted up and mouths slightly agape.

“It’s so clear tonight I feel like I could just reach up and touch the stars,” Cas said thoughtfully. Dean turned his head slightly and looked at Cas through the corner of his eye.

Cas’s hair glowed in the moonlight and every detail of his face was illuminated with light. It bounced off his defined cheekbones and fell sharply against his hard jawline. Cas felt Dean’s gaze and turned, a smile beginning to creep across his face. His bright blue eyes locked on Dean’s own and Dean felt his heart pounding in his chest. Dean swallowed heavily.

“Cas, I-” he started but was interrupted as Cas spotted something over Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, _look_!”

Dean followed Cas’s urgent pointing and looked behind him. And there, high in the sky was a comet, barreling through the atmosphere at such as speed that a gaseous tail formed behind it.

“It’s a shooting star, Dean. Quick, you’ve got to make a wish!”

Both boys shut their eyes tightly and searched for something to wish for, something worthy of a shooting star.

Eyes still closed, Dean felt a hand close around his own. He opened his eyes to see Cas’s fingers entwined with his own. Dean looked up into Cas’s sheepish face and a deep blush spread across the dark-haired boy’s perfect cheeks.

“Cas.” Dean whispered, bringing his other hand up to hold Cas’s face and bring it closer to his own. “I wish for you.”

Dean leaned in and kissed Cas slowly, tenderly on those perfect lips. Cas’s hand tightened on Dean’s, whether from surprise or pleasure, Dean didn’t know or care. He worked his free hand into the dense waves of Cas’s hair. Cas’s hand came up to Dean’s chest and slid around to the back of Dean’s neck, pulling them closer together as the kiss deepened.

Their mouths worked gently together against one another and Dean breathed in deeply, committing Cas’s earthy smell to memory. He wanted to remember this forever.

Cas’s fingers dug into the back of Dean’s neck in protest as they slowly drew apart. Cas rested his forehead on Dean’s and stared into the other boy’s green eyes.

“You know, telling someone your wish is pretty bad luck,” he said with mock sincerity.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean said and laughed, leaning back to look up at the night sky, it’s beauty magnified by Dean’s beating heart.

“I’d take a lifetime of bad luck for just one day with you,” Dean said, refusing to meet Cas’s eyes.

Cas’s hand came up to grip Deans chin firmly. He pulled Dean in close until they were eye to eye and said firmly, “I’ll give you a lifetime of _hell_ if you leave me after one day.”

Cas pulled Dean in close and their mouths collided, more desperate this time. Cas leaned back until he was lying on the ground and pulled Dean on top of him. They left no room for air, no room for anything but each other. Pinned under Dean’s warm body, Cas bit playfully at Dean’s lip. Dean smothered Cas’s face with kisses, his lips ghosting over the dark-haired boy’s cheekbones. Cas’s hands dug into the material of Dean’s shirt as Cas roughly pushed Dean off to the side and then rolled on top of him, straddling Dean’s hips.

“Oh god, oh god,” Dean breathed as he slipped his hands under the hem of Cas’s shirt and slid his fingers over Cas’s cool skin.

“Dean.”

Cas stretched his neck back and let his face lift towards the stars. Overhead, the sky had begun to lighten, but the stars shone just as brightly. Nothing could dim their everlasting light now.

Cas sunk low over Dean’s body and kissed Dean gently on the lips. He turned his head and rested it on Dean’s chest, shivering as Dean’s traced his fingers over his spine, warm fingers against cool skin.

“Stay with me forever,” he whispered into the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

“As long as the stars shine, I’m yours,” came Dean’s hushed yet sincere reply. “I’m yours…”

\--

They fell asleep in each other’s arms under the bright starry sky, the cool wind ushering in a thin layer of clouds. As the clouds gathered quicker and quicker, the stars tried in vain to pierce through the dense cover. The stars vanished from the night and the sky was not filled with light again until the first bomb was dropped.

The attack on Pearl Harbor had begun.

\--

Dean’s eyes flew open and his arms tightened around Cas instinctively as soon as he heard the deafening sound of a nearby explosion. Cas sat up and turned towards Dean with a worried look on his face. The two boys scrambled to their feet and fled from the empty field, pausing only to look back at the sky when they had reached the Barnes building.

The sky was congested with an unnatural amount of smoke. _“Something must be on fire,”_ Dean thought. Just then, a loud rumbling passed over the boys’ heads. Ducking instinctively, Dean watched in horror as a fighter plane passed overhead, decorated with the Rising Sun of the Japanese on the side of the airplane.

“Oh god- _Sam!_ ” Dean shouted grabbing Cas’s hand and pulling him back towards the house where Sam would be, alone and scared. “Cas, come on, we have to go get Sam!”

Cas nodded numbly and let himself be pulled along by Dean’s persistent grip on his hand. Overhead, more Japanese planes had appeared, firing down on the base. Luckily, their attacks seemed to be aimed more towards Battleship Row, to the east of the Submarine Base. However, thick smoke began to fill the air, making it hard to breathe, and every once in a while a huge explosion shook the ground.

Dean and Cas worked their way back to the housing complexes without seeing a single soul. It was a slow Sunday morning- many of the sailors were probably still in church. Dean scrambled through his rucksack until he found the key to the front door and then sprinted the rest of the way to the house, leaving Cas behind.

Dean put the key up to the lock, trying to move as quickly as possible, but before he got the chance to put the key in the door, it swung open easily. Dean froze in horror; either someone had broken into the house, or Sam was gone. Right now, Dean didn’t know which was worse.

He went quickly but cautiously into the house, eyes wide for any sign of a disturbance. When he reached his and Sam’s room, he turned the knob slowly and looked inside.

Sitting on the bed, Sam in his arms, was John Winchester. He looked up sharply when Dean entered the room and his eyes hardened when he saw his eldest son.

“Where the hell have you been,” John’s voice was low and threatening. “I thought I gave you strict orders to always stay inside at night and watch over Sammy. I thought you cared about this family.”

“Dad. Dad, I- I just stepped out for a minute that’s all,” Dean swallowed heavily.

“Stepped out? _Stepped out_? Dean you could’ve gotten your brother killed.”

Dean stepped forward, his mouth forming a feeble apology when he heard the floorboards squeak behind him. He turned and saw Cas, wide-eyed and out of breath, who had finally caught up.

“Dean? Is Sam okay?” Cas asked, peering around Dean’s shoulder to see John Winchester looking poisonously back at him.

“ _Dean._ Who the _hell_ is that and why is he in our house.” John’s voice had dropped to a new level of intimidation and Dean took a deep breath before turning back to face his father.

“This is Cas, my friend. He lives on the other side of the Barnes building. He came to check on Sam.”

“He wouldn’t have had to ‘check on Sam’ if you had been here, Dean. I told you to look after your little brother and you couldn’t even do that. With all these damned Japs blowing stuff up, this is prime real estate for destruction. If I hadn’t come when I did…” A nearby explosion punctuated John’s point. “And it would’ve been all your fault, Dean.”

Dean stumbled a few steps forward, rocked by a blast of heat and light as the explosions got nearer and nearer. “Dad, please-”

“Enough, Dean. Enough. Get your boyfriend out of my house. And then meet me and Sammy at the bomb shelter. That is, if you care enough about us to come back.”

With that, John hoisted Sam up and carried him out of the room. He fixed Cas with a sobering stare and called back to Dean, eyes locked on Cas the whole time, “Choose wisely, Dean.”

The growl of airplane engines roared overhead as John left the two boys standing in the house.

Cas turned warily to Dean and started to walk towards him. He wanted to hold him, to shake him, to kiss him, anything to clear Dean’s face of its anguish and guilt. But something held him back and he could only watch as Dean collapsed to the ground and began to cry silently. Tears fell from Dean’s face just as bombs and bullets fell from the sky. His hands tore at his short brown hair and his eyes squeezed shut. Dean began rocking back and forth, rocking like the ground that shook beneath each bomb that hit the earth. He was adrift in a bottomless pit, flailing wildly for anything to cling to and suddenly, Cas was there.

_Cas_. His arms wrapped protectively around Dean and pulled him close as Dean’s sobs racked his warm body. Cas was Dean’s life savor, the yellow ring thrown out to him in the midst of the storm, and he clung to him in desperation. Only Cas’s arms were strong enough to keep Dean afloat, to keep him from sinking under. And Dean knew that if he let go, he would be lost forever.

“Dean. Dean, baby.” Cas’s soothing voice made it through Dean’s sobs and reached Dean’s ears. The very sound of his voice calmed Dean down enough to swallow and take a deep breath. “Dean you’ve got to go to Sam. You’ve got to take care of him, okay? He’s waiting for you at the shelter, and I know he’s just as worried about you as you are about him He needs you Dean. Sam needs you.”

Dean’s body jerked as he hiccupped through his tears. “But…Cas. I need _you_.” He began rocking again, faster and faster until Cas grabbed his face in both hands.

“I’m here Dean. I’ve got you. I wont ever let you go. But right now you’ve got to go be with Sammy.”

Above their heads, planes roared past ceaselessly.

“Dean, listen to me. Those planes won’t stop and we can’t stay here. Go to Sam. I’ve got to find my dad. There’s another shelter behind the Barnes building. I’ll hide there. You’ve got to get to the shelter and find Sam. Promise me you will,” Cas said urgently.

Nodding, Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and inhaled deeply. He wouldn’t let himself forget the intoxicating scent of Cas. Feeling ready to stand, Dean rose to his feet, pulling Cas up with him. “I will…I will find you when this is over, Cas,” he said shakily. “Promise to goodness.”

They kissed fleetingly and then Cas was gone, running down the street towards his house. Dean watched him go and it took every bit of his strength not to follow him. As if on autopilot, Dean turned away from the retreating figure of Cas and began to stumble along towards the bomb shelter in the middle of the housing complex.

The explosions were increasingly frequent and the smoke in the air descended to smother Dean in ash, making it hard to breathe. Ahead of him, he could see the faint outline of the door to the bomb shelter that lay below ground. He ran the last hundred feet to the entrance and banged on the door.

“It’s me, Dean Winchester. I’m looking for my brother. Please! Let me in,” he shouted, not sure if anyone inside could hear him. He kicked at the metal door and heard movement on the other side. It slowly swung open and Dean darted inside. The door was pushed shut after him and relocked. Blinking to adjust to the dim light of the shelter, Dean saw the figure of a woman standing over him.

“You’re Dean Winchester?” she said pointedly.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, remembering his manners. “Please, I’m looking for my father and my brother, Sammy. Did they make it?”

The woman looked on him with sympathy. “Yes, Sam’s laying down in the back. Your dad came and dropped him off and then left. I’m sure he’s okay, though. Sam’s right back there child, be careful not to disturb any of the others. We’ve all had a bit of a rough one today.”

Dean thanked her with a silent nod and made his way past families until he came to the back of the cramped shelter. He found Sammy curled up with his head on a blanket, eyes open but unseeing. Dean was taken with a pang of guilt. This was all his fault. Sam would’ve been fine if he had just stayed in and taken care of him, like his father had asked him to.

“Sammy? Hey buddy,” Dean bent down and stroked Sam’s hair from his forehead. “Hey. You doin’ alright little brother?”

Sam glanced up and dropped his eyes quickly when he saw Dean’s concerned face. “Yeah. I’m doing okay.”

“Look, Sam, I’m sor-“

“Dean. Stop. It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to worry over me all the time. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Sam took a deep breath. He hated admitting to Dean that he couldn’t handle in his problems. It was the same reason he hadn’t told anyone about Lucie, although her bullying hurt Sam in so many ways. “It’s my fault. If I wasn’t such a baby about everything… I shouldn’t need everyone else so much.”

Sam’s eyes shifted nervously, looking anywhere but Dean’s face.

“But Sammy, that’s what family is for. We help each other out no matter what. Even when you don’t want help. That’s just the way it’s gotta be, Sam. That’s what makes us family. And you cant escape from that, no matter how much you may want to,” he said, winking.

“Yeah yeah, okay,” Sam said, smiling and bringing his eyes up to meet his older brother’s.

“Hey, uh Sam? Where’s Dad?” Dean asked suddenly.

Sam’s smile faded. “We came here and then he left. He said all the sailors were called to battle positions. They’re trying to fight back, right? To fight the Japanese?” Sam’s eyes were wide and scared. “Is he going to be okay, Dean?”

“You bet, Sam.” Dean said to Sam reassuringly. “Dad is a grown man. He can take care of himself. Don’t you ever doubt that. He’ll take care of us too, Sammy. Don’t you worry.”

Sam smiled to himself and rearranged his head on the blanket, closing his eyes. Dean watched his little brother and wished he were as innocent as Sam. All he could think about was his father out in the middle of all the commotion. Dean fell into a troubled sleep, his dreams full of his father’s face mutilated by bullets, his last impression of his eldest son fixed in a never-ending cycle of disappointment.


	4. Chapter 4

Dec. 7th, 1941 late evening--Pearl Harbor Naval Base

Several people had stopped by the shelter throughout to give updates on the attack outside. According to these various reports, the Japanese planes had all disappeared by noon but the base was plagued by fire and explosions for hours after the bombing stopped. The safest place to be was in the bomb shelter, so once people staggered in, they rarely left.

Dean was getting restless. He needed to find Cas, to make sure he was okay. Sitting in the cramped and dark shelter was making him anxious. What if Cas needed his help, what if Cas was counting on him and he was just sitting in this damn hole in the ground, staring at the wall?

Next to him, Sam sighed and rolled over, facing the wall. Dean looked down on his little brother with tenderness in his expression. Sam had been through so much and sometimes Dean forgot how strong his little brother was. He was steadfast and faithful to the last stand. He was so quiet about his own struggles, though, and Dean knew that he had a lot.

\--

A few weeks before the transfer to Pearl Harbor, Dean watched from the shadows as a dirty blonde girl kicked his brother to the ground, scattering his books everywhere. After watching to make sure that Sam got up and was okay, Dean tailed the girl. When they were in a relatively deserted sector of the base, Dean called out to the girl and she turned, a cruel smile spreading across her face when she saw Dean.

“Hey Dean. Did your brother send you after me? He’s got his own attack dogs now? How cute!” she said with glee. “I’m Lucie, by the way.”

Dean sized the girl up and figured she wasn’t worth a fistfight, but her words stuck deep under Dean’s skin and he had to keep himself from lashing out. She seemed to be aware of Dean’s internal struggle and turned triumphantly, skipping away.

“Don’t worry. Sam and I are _good friends_. We’re made for each other. Even my brother Mikey says so,” at this she turned back towards Dean. “You know my brother, Michael, don’t you Dean? He just had his sixteenth birthday last week!” she let that sink in before smiling sweetly and giggling. “Bye bye, Dean! Tell Sammy dearest that I send all my love!”

Dean watched Lucie skip away, seething in anger. The girl he could’ve dealt with easily. Hell, he could’ve probably taken on the older brother and gotten in a few good shots. But if his father heard he was fighting not only girls, but the teens on campus, all hell would break lose. And if he found that it had originally been Sam’s problem- Dean didn’t even want to think about it.

And so he did nothing. He waited and wished for Sam to turn to him one night and ask Dean for help, or just open up about anything in his life. But Sam stayed quiet and Dean, respecting Sam’s pride, did too.

\--

Suddenly, a loud crashing sound came from the front of the shelter. Someone was banging on the metal door. The echoes filled the entire shelter and the woman closest to the door went over to it silently.

She opened the door cautiously, but threw it open wide to reveal three sailors complete with uniforms and guns. They spoke first with the woman at the door and then started gesturing towards the families near the front of the shelter to start moving back out into the open. They said that the attack was over; everything that was going to happen had already happened, and that everyone should try and resume life as normal.

Dean roused Sam from his sleep and together they walked from the dark shelter into the pale blue evening, wondering if there was any normal to go back to.

\--

            They made their way back to their house, still fully intact. Dean breathed a sign of relief when he saw it standing tall and proud; the last thing he wanted to see was another one of his homes burned to he ground. Sam and Dean walked inside and it was as if nothing had happened. There was no evidence that the base had just been attacked, everything was still on the shelves in perfect order.

After making a full sweep of the small one story house, Dean and Sam made it back to the front door. They looked solemnly at one another, not daring to bring up the possibility that their father was-

“I’ll make some dinner,” Dean said abruptly.

“Okay.” Sam answered, and they both started back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“Hey, wanna bowl of Corn Kix?” Dean called back to Sam.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Okay.”

“Sam. Hey. Look at me.” Dean turned back towards his brother and crouched down until they were at eye level. “Look at me man, for real, come on. We’re fine. We’re both here and that’s all that matters, okay? I got your back and you got mine, right? Don’t worry about all that other stuff. Dad is- I’m sure he’s fine so don’t worry about it. Everything’s going to be all right. You believe me?”

Sam’s eyes searched Dean’s and then he slowly nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Satisfied, Dean gave Sam a pat on the shoulder and walked him into the kitchen. “Then Corn Kix it is.”

\--

After they finished eating, the two boys laid on their beds, staring at the ceiling, waiting. Outside it was dark and hostile; their peace of mind had been demolished by the Japanese attack. There was no telling what could be lurking out there now, looking in at them.

Dean was struck with a sudden pang of longing to be held and protected from the great unknown of the world, and his thoughts flew to Cas. _“Goddamn it,”_ he thought.” _I promised Cas I would find him when all this was over.”_

“Hey, uh Sam. If you’re okay with staying here alone for a little while I have something I really really need to do. I know last time ended badly but I just need to do something really quickly.”

Sam turned his head to Dean and simply said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be here.”

“If anything happens, anything at all, you run to the neighbors’ okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said.

“Sam I mean it-“

“I know, Dean. It’s okay.”

Shaking his head, Dean started towards the front door. He gave Sam one last look before turning away. His back turned, Dean heard Sam call, “Say hi to Cas for me.”

Dean grinned and headed out into the intimidating darkness.

\--

Dean ran swiftly and silently to the Barnes building, eyes straining for anything that resembled Cas. His eyes swept the site once, twice, three times until he thought he saw a small dark figure moving towards him. Encouraged, Dean stepped out from the shadows and walked a few steps towards the approaching figure.

He stopped short when he saw the khaki uniform of a naval officer in the yellow streetlights. He tried to backtrack into his hiding spot but it was too late; the man had already seen him and had started to jog over.

“You! You there! Say, boy, what do you think you’re playing at, walking around like this at night? Don’t you know we’re practically at war by now?” The man had dark brown hair that was cut so short that Dean could see through it to the man’s scalp. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he probably wouldn’t get the chance now, not with them being ‘practically at war’ and all. The man fixed Dean with a cold stare and demanded, “Tell me, son, and quickly, who’s your father?”

“Winchester, sir. John Winchester.”

“You don’t say.” The man looked both impressed and devastated at the same time. “Well damn. Pleased to meet you…?”

“Dean, sir.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dean, but not at a time like this. Shit, I don’t know how to say this. Your father…Well you see, your father was a good friend of mine. He was stationed on the USS Arizona, but you knew that didn’t you? Well, her forward magazine was hit pretty good by some goddamn Jap and she exploded and took a good many of our boys with her. Your father…well he was one of the ones that didn’t make it. I’m sorry, son. You got someone you can call?”

Dean looked at the man blankly.

“See here now, son, I’m trying to help you out. I know this is a shock but you better think up a list of relatives who could take you in. Somebody’ll come around tomorrow morning I suspect and ask you that same question. I’m sorry it had to be this way, son, but your father, he was a good man. A good, honest man….I was supposed to be stationed on his deck but I got up late on account of a head cold. Ain’t that something, dodging death because of a head cold…” the man looked off into the distance, rubbing his stubble-ridden chin with a dirty hand. “Yes well…you better get on back to wherever it is you came from. Tell you what, you tell me where you’re heading and I’ll walk you there. Ain’t safe to be out alone at night during a war…”

Dean had no choice but to give the man directions back to the house and trudge back, defeated. With every step, his guilt grew. Countless times he considered turning from the sailor and slipping off to go and find Cas. He was jumpy, trying to force himself to take every opportunity to escape and get back to Cas but something kept him walking forward, walking back towards Sam, but away from Cas.

Dean couldn’t help but think that he was walking away from his father too. The man had said that his father was dead but how could that be? John Winchester was not the sort of man who died; he was a fighter, he was a man to be reckoned with, not a man who could be killed by a cowardly sneak attack by those damn Japs. Surely there must be some mistake?

Dean walked numbly back to the house and watched as the naval officer knocked quickly on the door. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened slightly and Dam peered out into the darkness. His face screwed up in confusion as he looked from the officer to Dean and back again.

“…Dean?” he asked slowly.

“You mind if I come in for a while, son?” the officer asked Sam. “I’m afraid I’ve got some news for you.”

Sam looked towards Dean waiting for his approval. Only after Dean nodded did Sam step back and open the door the make room for the officer to enter.

They made their way to the living room and the officer directed Sam and Dean to the couch. Sam searched Dean’s face for a clue as to what was going on but Dean’s was guarded, staring blankly at the wall behind the officer’s head.

“I just ran into your brother a few minutes ago. I’m a friend of John’s- was stationed on the same deck as your dad, matter of fact,” the officer paused, mouth opening and closing, looking for the right words to say. “I hate to be the one to tell you this…but your father, John, he didn’t survive the attack this morning. He was faithful ‘til the end; reporting to his post on the Arizona was an admirable feat. But unfortunately, as I explained to Dean earlier, one of her front magazines was hit and the whole damn ship went up. I’m mighty sorry boys and I know that sounds cheap but I knew your father and I’ll be damned if he ever stopped talking about you two, his pride and joy. He cared a lot about you and he went down fighting to keep you safe. Don’t you ever forget that,” the officer took a deep breath before continuing. “I told Dean that somebody’ll come by tomorrow and tell you just what I’ve told you. And you better start making that list, boy; better find out where you’re going to go…You’ll be all right, boys. You’re strong. Hell, you’re Winchesters. It’s in your blood.”

\--

The officer left shortly afterwards, leaving Dean and Sam sitting together on the couch. The silence in his absence was deafening. It crashed down on the boys like a wave, suffocating them in it’s demanding grasp. Sam refused to meet Dean’s eyes, afraid that if he did he would start crying and never stop. So he stared intently at the carpeted floor until his eyes slid out of focus and his mind went blank. He didn’t notice when Dean got up form the couch and walked down the hall to the room they shared. He didn’t notice that he was sitting rod straight, like a puppet drawn up on its strings. He didn’t notice when tears began to roll down his cheeks. It was only when the his tears met his lips and he tasted their salty tanginess that he blinked and everything from the past twenty-four hours came rushing towards him, fangs bared.

Sam cried out and his hands flew to cover his face as the tears came faster and faster. Dean heard Sam’s cry and ran to his side, wrapping up his small but lanky body in a reassuring embrace. Sam’s body was racked by messy sobs and with each one, Dean held on tighter and tighter. Tears pricked at the back of Dean’s eyes as they sat together; Sam’s sweet innocence, the only thing protecting him from the world, had been stripped from him prematurely and unceremoniously.

They stayed on the couch until Sam’s sobs faded to quieter tears. Dean took Sam’s shoulders and held him out at arm’s length, looking into his little brother’s glassy eyes.

“We’ve got to be strong, Sammy,” was all he said. “We’ve got to stay strong.”

Sam nodded sorrowfully. After a while he looked up at Dean and said in a quavering voice, “Dad would kill us if he caught us crying like this because of him.” Dean felt a smile tug at his lips and he surrendered to it, pulling Sam into a hug, his head coming to rest on the top of his brother’s.

“We can’t let him down, Sam. He wouldn’t want this. He’d want us to stay strong and keep going. To do something worthwhile instead of sitting here crying over the past. And that’s what we’re going to do. Something to make Dad proud.”


	5. Chapter 5

December 8th, 1941--Pearl Harbor Naval Base

Dean woke early; rather, he stopped pretending to be asleep early. He looked over and saw Sam was already awake and sitting up. Dean rubbed his eyes and stretched. The faint morning light shone eagerly and Dean couldn’t help but get annoyed. What was it so excited about? He sighed loudly and heard Sam slide off the bed and make his way to the bathroom. Neither of the boys had slept particularly well but there was no use in trying to go back to sleep now. The sun had already decided that it was time to get up and the boys could do little against its intense rays.

Around 8:30 there came a knock on the door. Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing glance and went to open the door.

Expecting to see a menacing naval officer, Dean’s mouth opened and closed in confusion as the door opened to reveal Cas, his eyes tired but determined and as blue as ever. Dean let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. All the weight of the past twenty four hours lifted from his shoulders as he stared deep into Cas’s dazzling blue eyes.

Sam came up behind Dean and peered over his shoulder at Cas. His face brightened when he saw the dark-haired boy standing just outside the door. “ _This must be the Cas that Dean’s always gushing about_ ,” he thought.

Confirming Sam’s inner thoughts, Dean breathed out a quiet, “Cas.”

Cas’s eyes sparkled when Dean said his name and his eyebrows raised.

“Hello, Dean.”

Sam, looking from Dean to Cas, stepped forward until he stood at his older brother’s shoulder.

“Hi, Cas. I’m Sam, Dean’s little brother,” he said, holding out his hand like he’d seen adults do. His words startled Dean out of his trance as Cas reached out and shook Sam’s hand warmly. Dean kicked himself inwardly. How could he forget that Sam was there?

“Yeah, sorry. Uh…Cas, Sam. Sam, Cas.”

Cas tilted his head slightly as he looked at Sam.

“I’m surprised we’ve never met.”

“Same,” Sam answered.

Clearing his throat, Dean turned his eyes towards Cas. “So what brings you here, Cas?” He opened the door wider and directed Cas inside.

“Well, I recall a certain someone promising to meet me after the attack stopped. When you didn’t show, I just wanted to see you and make sure you were alright.

Dean fixed Cas with a sincere gaze and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to find you earlier, Cas. I tried last night but I got caught by some damn officer and then…well then he told me-“

“I know about your father, Dean. It’s okay; we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I can’t imagine…I’m glad you came back to be with Sam.”

Dead nodded, grateful for Cas’s understanding. He didn’t want to say the words aloud. Perhaps if he didn’t say them, his father wouldn’t be-

A sharp knock interrupted Dean’s thoughts. He opened the door slowly and there, sure enough, on the doorstep was a keen-eyed, stocky naval officer. Sam and Dean sat on the couch while Cas waited in the bedroom while the man informed the brothers of their father’s honorable sacrifice for his country and the importance of courage and community in the coming days and months to follow.

Near the end of his sermon the man pulled a sheet of paper from his clipboard and read over it before saying, “This is your emergency contact list that your father made when he enlisted, in an event such as this one. This helps us find somewhere for you to go. It says here that you’ve got an uncle in Idaho, a Mr. Robert Singer. That true?”

Dean and Sam both nodded.

“Good. Now, he’s been notified about the circumstances here and as soon as we hear back from hi we’ll put you two on the first boat out of here. You kids need to get the mainland, and fast. War at sea is no place for young boys.”

After the man left, Dean filled Cas in on what he had said. They sat together on Dean’s bed while Sam was busy making lunch in the kitchen. When Dean got to the part about Idaho, about leaving the base, Cas’s eyes grew wide and he began shaking his head.

“But, Dean, what about us? I’ll be going back to California, if we even make it off the base at all. You’ll be too far away. I can’t survive without you.”

“I know, Cas, but what can I do? My dad’s- gone, Sam needs me, and my uncle is more than willing to let us stay with him. I mean, maybe we could make a run for it, you know, just the two of us against the rest of the world. Find our own way. But what about Sammy? I have to look after him and it’d be too hard to try to take him with us…I just…I don’t see a way out, Cas. They’ve got us cornered.” Defeated, Dean let his head fall forward.

Cas’s hand trailed up Dean’s chest until it rested against Dean’s chin, forcing it up until their eyes met. They shared a thousand words with that single gaze without having to make a sound. Cas leaned forward until his lips met Dean’s gently. After a moment, he pulled back sweetly, ignoring Dean’s protests, and ran his hand along Dean’s jawline.

“Not us, Dean. No one can stop us. As long as stars shine, remember?”

“Of course I remember, Cas. Of course.”

\--

December 15th, 1941--Pearl Harbor Naval Base

The letter from Robert Singer came a week later, accepting custody of Sam and Dean Winchester and changing their lives forever. Sam and Dean packed their few belongings in their suitcases and headed out of the door of their house of the past few months for the last time. All of John’s belongings, including his journal, had been boxed up earlier and shipped to the Singer house. The house had been sparse while they were living in it, but with everything all moved out, it was almost completely bare. Dean figured the next family to live in it would bring their own memories that would fill the house again, but seeing it so bare hurt Dean in a strange way. It wasn’t that he had ever considered it his home, but there was a sense of familiarity in the structure. Living in this house had been the happiest he’d ever been since his mom died, and he was sad to have to say goodbye.

Nothing could prepare him for his parting with Cas, though. The morning came, bright and radiant with a soft winter wind. Dean scowled at the jauntiness of the rising sun, cursing it for its everlasting optimism. Today was the day his life ended; the weather could’ve planned accordingly. He felt as the world was mocking him, celebrating when in a few short hours he would be on a one way trip away from Cas. He would write, of course, but mail in war traveled slowly and was a pathetic substitute for real physical interaction.

Cas was waiting by the boat, hands balled into fists, the winter breeze lifting his thick hair from his forehead. He squinted resolutely back at Dean through the bright morning sun. As Dean neared the boat, he felt rather than saw Sam sigh heavily. Dean couldn’t agree more. He was starting to understand why his father was always on the move. Once you got attached, it was hard to say goodbye.

When they reached Cas, he turned to Sam first and gave him a solemn handshake before pulling him into a brotherly hug, and Dean was struck with a new wave of appreciation for the family he had found on the base. He truly considered Cas one of the family and was so grateful to have found him.

But now they were to be separated. And not only by an ocean, but by a war as well. Dean feared for Cas’s life if he and his father stayed on the base any longer. If the Japanese attack on December 7th had been a surprise attack, how bold and devastating would the attacks during full out war be? It made him feel sick just thinking about it.

Cas ruffled Sam’s hair and pushed him towards the boat saying, “You take care of your brother, Sam. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“No promises,” Sam answered, smiling. “See ya, Cas.”

“Until next time, Sam.”

Dean waited until Sam was out of earshot and then pulled Cas behind one of the sheds that stood along the dock. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Cas’s. Tears stung the backs of Dean’s eyes. ‘This isn’t fair,” was all he could choke out.

“I know, Dean, I know. But this is just a little bump in the road. We’ll be all right. _You’ll_ be all right. You’ve got to stay strong for your brother, Dean, because he’s a special kid and he needs you.” Cas paused, shaking his head. “I’m gonna miss you so goddamn much,” he whispered. Suddenly Cas’s arms were around Dean’s shoulders and his face was wet. Dean slipped his arms around Cas’s waist and held him while he cried. Dean blamed the wind for making his eyes water, but he knew better. Cas was the first real good thing to come along in Dean’s life and they couldn’t even be together. As Dean felt Cas’s warm body against his, he wished that they could be alone, he wanted to trail his hands up and down Cas’s body until he lost himself in the warm skin. He needed _something_ to get him through the many lonely nights ahead of him. As he rubbed Cas’s back, Dean felt a pang or lust run through his heart.

“I need to be alone with you right now,” he said desperately. “I need to feel you, to kiss you and stay here with you forever. I need to shout form the rooftops to make sure everyone know that you’re mine.” Dean breathed shallowly, gasping for air as his chest tightened. “Cas, buddy, I need _you_.”

Cas nodded silently, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Dean. The boat…you’ve got to go now or the boat’ll leave you behind. Please, Dean, go. Go be with Sam. But do something for me, Dean. One favor.”

“Anything,” Dean answered.

“Every night, go outside and look at the stars. And know that somewhere, I’ll be doing the same thing. Those stars have been burning for thousands of years and they’re unbelievably alone, unbelievably far apart. If they can live on, Dean, so can we.”

Cas kissed Dean firmly on the lips, their tears mixing into a salty farewell. Dean growled in the back of his throat, despair setting in. His hands gripped Cas’s back and pulled them closer together. Cas’s tongue slid into Dean’s mouth as his hands cradled the back of Dean’s neck. Cas leaned into Dean and their mouths slid together in perfect synchronization. Dean’s hands moved slowly down to the hem of Cas’s shirt and he pressed his palms against Cas’s bare stomach. He ventured upwards, memorizing the feel of Cas under his hands. Mouths locked, Cas pushed Dean up against the wall of the shed behind them. Trapped between the wall and Cas’s warm body, Dean let out a low moan, pleasure seeping through his whole being.

They moved against each other effortlessly and in perfect harmony. Their bodies fit together perfectly, curving and rolling like the ocean tide on the shore. Cas’s hands moved from the back of Dean’s neck, sliding down his chest and unzipping Dean’s jacket at the same time. He bit at Dean’s lip and continued down his neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses. Dean leaned his head back against the wall and breathed deeply as Cas kissed his collarbone over and over again. Dean’s hands moved instinctively around to the small of Cas’s back, massaging the soft skin he found there. Cas let out a soft whimper and made his way back up to Dean’s lips, trailing his tongue along Dean’s neck. Dean inhaled sharply, only to be cut off by Cas’s lips covering his own.

As their teeth and tongues collided, Cas slipped his arms around Dean’s chest, still on top of his shirt, but beneath Dean’s jacket. The heat from Cas’s arms seeped through the thin material of Dean’s shirt and seemed to leave scorch marks on his skin. Dean shook his head slightly, desperate to have Cas’s body directly on his own. Aware of Dean’s movement, Cas opened his eyes and pulled back slightly.

“What is it, Dean?” he asked, speech slurred.

“You, Cas. You’re fantastic and incredible and I just…I suppose…if it’s my last chance to say it…Cas Novak, I-”

The horn from the boat blasted just as Dean opened his mouth to finish the sentence. A shout from the deck forced them apart and Dean looked around the corner of the shed to see a man on the boat waving at him to hurry up. He turned back to Cas, eyes flitting over his face, his arms, his hair, his body, committing it all to memory.

“We will meet again, Cas Novak. I’ll make sure of that.”

“You better.” Cas said, forcing a smile. “Until then.”

They nodded their heads just as Dean heard the man from the boat cry out again. Breathing heavily, Dean turned away from Cas, picked up his luggage, and walked towards the boat. He walked up the ramp and didn’t look back until the boat had left the harbor. Only then, only when he was sure he could look back without crying, did he turn tentatively around and look at the slowly disappearing base. He uttered a quiet farewell and then turned to go find Sam.


	6. Chapter 6

July 1951--Meddletown, Idaho

Adjusting to life in Meddleton, Idaho was hard at first. It was a small, slow town in the middle of nowhere. News seemed to travel quickly from mouth to mouth, but nothing ever _happened_ , at least nothing that should’ve been considered news.

It was essentially the first time that Sam hadn’t lived on a naval base; the first time he could remember, anyhow. He was raised on a schedule ruled by bells and alarms and for as long as he could remember, he had always had a task before him, whether it came from the teachers on the bases, his father, or even Dean. But in Idaho, when he wasn’t helping his Uncle Bobby in the car yard, the free time was all his. He could decide for himself what he wanted to do.

Most of the time he read. He would be starting his senior year of high school in only a few months and he had to make every moment count.

If Sam had ever told anyone besides Bobby about his dream of going to law school, they would have laughed at him. Laughed at him and tried to convince him not to go through with it. He knew that Dean would protest. Of course. Dean wanted him to stay in Idaho and help run the mechanic shop with him and Bobby.

“Working with cars is our blood, Sam. It’s the family business. It’s what Dad would’ve wanted,” he always said.

But Sam didn’t want what his father wanted. He wanted to go out into the world and make a difference. Wouldn’t his Dad have been proud of that, too?

Not wanting to upset Dean, Sam confided his deepest desires about going to college to Bobby alone. He wasn’t even sure if law was what he wanted to study. But he knew that if wanted a shot at changing the world, it would be waiting for him at college.

The past ten years had been a blessing to Sam Winchester. He was able to attend school, the same school, for more than six disengaged months. For one he was “the new kid” that stuck around for more than one semester. Something in Sam relished this feeling of familiarity and, under the care of Bobby and his teachers, he flourished and grew. “He seems to be making up for lost time,” one of his teachers wrote to Bobby in a note praising Sam’s studious behaviors. It was then, when Sam was in the third grade, that Bobby realized that Sam couldn’t stay in Idaho his whole life. He deserved so much better. So it came as no surprise to Bobby when Sam approached him one Tuesday morning when Dean was out in the back, working on a particularly battered station wagon, and told him about his plans to apply for college.

Frankly, Bobby was surprised that Dean hadn’t voiced any recent complaints about the amount of studying and reading that Sam did. Dean just expected Sam to gratefully fall in line and run the shop with him full-time after Sam graduated high school. It was, after all, the family business.

\--

Dean was an interesting child, as Bobby had learned in those first couple of months after the two boys showed up on his dusty doorstep. He had a severe inferiority complex that he covered with a carefree façade and loud music. He had a good heart but rarely let anyone see it; he had an air of indifference about him that must have come from his father. The kid was a piece of work. He claimed to be free of moments of confession and emotions, but often times once he started talking, the words just flew out, faster and truer with each passing moment. It was at these rare times that Bobby saw Dean’s soul, free from his “tough kid on the block” act. Faithful and shining bright, it gave Bobby hope for the kid’s future.

Sam, Bobby knew, was already set on leaving Idaho and doing something more with his life. But Dean…Dean held himself back in everything he did, almost afraid to show too much emotion or get too attached. The kid had so much potential and it killed Bobby to see the restrictions Dean put on himself. He had barely scraped through school, graduating from Meddleton High School only because Bobby had made him. Now, at twenty-two years old, he was supposed to be his best self, young and eager and brimming with life. But instead he was trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and anger at the world around him. He was always going on about the second World War and how he wished he would’ve enlisted and killed some of those damn Japs or how he could’ve taken out every son of a bitch that Nazi Germany threw at him.

The only thing that gave Dean comfort was working on the cars. Something about being able to take a useless hunk of junk and transform it into a working, valuable work of art provided Dean with a level of sanity and control in his life. Bobby figured Dean saw himself in every one of those broken cars and hungered for a way to fix his own self like he could fix any car that Bobby put in front of him.

Once, when Dean was still in school, Bobby had asked Dean why he loved working on cars so much and the answer was surprisingly mature.

“I don’t know, Bobby. Working with cars just gives me this feeling…like fixing them is like a puzzle, and the best part is when you're done, they leave, and you're not responsible for them anymore,” Dean had said, avoiding Bobby’s eyes.

But even if Sam left, even if he went to college, Dean would most definitely still feel responsible for his little brother. It was pounded into Dean that he had to look after Sam and keep him close, for fear of the consequences. Which really just meant for fear of John Winchester.

Bobby knew that John Winchester had run a tight ship, and with good reason. The man had been through so much and when Mary died, well, Bobby was surprised that John had made it through. He loved that woman so fiercely; loved her more than life itself. Bobby remembered getting the letter from John saying he was going to enlist in the Navy. It made sense. Mary was gone and John needed something to keep him upright. The Navy was a hell of a choice, but Bobby was relieved that John was so composed after the recent death of the woman he loved.

After reading the letter, Bobby fumbled around for some paper to write a reply. He wrote to John and cautioned him against taking Dean and Sam with him to basic training, and later, a naval base. Dean was only four years old, and Sam, just over six months. _“The boys are too young for this, John, and you know it. They’re welcome to stay with me in Idaho. Please, John,”_ he wrote.

John’s rejection letter was sharp and defiant. He accused Bobby of trying to split up his family and take advantage of him _. “Family sticks together, Bobby. My boys need me.”_

From that day, Bobby never spoke to John Winchester again, but every night he worried about those poor boys. And when he got the letter about John’s death, he couldn’t help but feel a little relieved that Sam and Dean would be coming to live with him, and getting away from the life their father had forced them to lead.

\--

“Move this pile of junk scraps now, Sam, I swear to God. This is the sixth time today I’ve told you to move it out to the yard and get it out of my way.” Dean turned around, surprised to see that his brother wasn’t in the garage. “What the hell? He was just here-” Dean threw his hands up in frustration. “Son of a bitch.”

He bent down and picked up the heavy metal scraps that littered the garage floor. Straining under their weight, Dean moved quickly to carry the scraps outside dump them on the ground. His arm came up to wipe away the sweat on his forehead as he let out a heavy sigh. He squinted out over the car yard, eyes drifting lazily over shell-like car bodies, busted doors and the random bumper here and there. As his eyes moved over the lot, they stopped on the gleaming body of a black car, sunlight glinting off its hood.

Dean walked slowly over to the car, an almost new 6-cylinder Standard Kaiser; he had the walk memorized and could probably do it blindfolded. Because this car was his favorite. He had first seen it about three months ago when it first showed up. Bobby didn’t say anything, just towed it out to the yard with all the other junky cars. But Dean knew it deserved a better life. Something about the car spoke to him. Rusted and corroded along the bottom and the top of the roof, it was in pretty bad shape. The whole right side was crushed in towards itself and it was missing the back bumper. The hood was the only thing left seemingly untouched by the harsh outdoor conditions. Granted, it didn’t look brand new, but it caught Dean’s eye every time.

Dean ran his hand along the gentle curve from the roof down to the trunk, watching as dust and flecks of paint were knocked free and taken by the wind. He had to squint to keep the dust out of his eyes. “Damn, baby, you need some work,” he whispered to himself. “What I wouldn’t give to fix you up, take you out.” Dean sighed, backing away from the car and turning back towards the garage. “One day.”

\--

Sam was still gone when Dean made it back to the garage. “Oh you gotta be kidding me,” Dean muttered. “Come on, Sammy. Where are you?”

He walked up the hill towards the house on a hunch. Sam had a habit of holing himself up in his room or Bobby’s office for hours, reading some book or studying. Dean figured the poor kid had picked up a book and just lost track of time.

He took the stairs two at a time, his hand coming up to pull open the screen door when he heard Bobby’s voice, loud and harsh.

“You can’t keep it a secret from him, Sam! It’s not right. He’s your brother, dammit. Besides, he bound to find out anyway. You’ve got to tell him and it’s got to happen soon. Otherwise, the whole damn deal is off. Are we clear?”

“Bobby, just listen to me.”

Sam’s voice floated through the walls and out the screen door. Dean thought he heard a quiver, but Sam hadn’t cried in God knows how long. Nothing was making any sense. It was clear they were arguing and it had something to do with a secret Sam had, but what could his brother be keeping from him that was causing this much trouble? Dean lowered his hand and leaned in closer to the door, trying to make out what Sam was saying.

“-won’t understand. He’ll do something stupid. You know he will. Wouldn’t you rather wait until we find out if I can actually get in before we tell him anything? That way, if I don’t get in, he wouldn’t ever have to hear about it or worry about it. And then, if I do happen to get in, we can go from there. By then I’ll already have committed and he wont be able to do anything about it. Please, Bobby. Just wait a little longer. There’s no use starting trouble where there doesn’t need to be any.”

Dean heard Bobby sigh and recognized the creaking sound of Bobby’s favorite armchair as he sat down.

“Fine. Do whatever you think is best, Sam. But if this goes south, and there is a very large chance that it will, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’." There was a beat of silence before Bobby spoke again, quietter and calmer this time. "You thought of anywhere else you want to apply yet?”

“Didn't we already go over this? I’ve asked my teachers and they all agree Stanford will be a great school for me. There’s a lot of opportunities for me there. If I decide I don’t want to study law, they’ve got countless other programs I can study. It’s Stanford or nothing, Bobby.”

Dean backed away from the door slowly and sat down on the dusty steps. _Stanford. Study. Opportunities._

 _“Goddamn, the kid wants to go to college,”_ Dean thought. He should have seen it coming. What, with the amount of time Sam spent studying and reading, he should realized something was up. But Dean had always thought that Sam would just finish high school and then come work at the shop full time with him and Bobby. He had never really imagined Sam continuing his education, didn’t realize that that was something that Sam wanted to pursue.

Of course, Bobby and Dean could handle the shop on their own; it wasn’t necessarily a hard job. But imagining life without Sam- it was something Dean didn’t like to do. And _Stanford_ , of all places. It was states away, too far for Dean to be comfortable with it. How was he supposed to look after his brother when Sam was making it so hard?

Aware of the silence that had fallen in the house behind him, Dean stood up and walked back out to the garage. The last thing he wanted right now was to be caught eavesdropping, especially when Sam and Bobby had both ended up agreeing in keeping Sam’s college plans secret. It was an unwitting blow to Dean’s pride, but it stung nevertheless. Sam’s voice when he talked about it- he was so sure that Dean would be irrational about the situation without even giving the latter a chance to prove him wrong. However true it may have been, it still hurt Dean to think that his own brother didn’t feel comfortable sharing his emotions and resorted to talking behind his back about it.

Dean walked into the garage and started gathering up more scraps to move outside. His hand slipped over a sharp piece of metal and Dean sucked in a breath as it cut his palm. Bright red blood rushed up to the surface of the newly torn skin. Ignoring the small sting the accompanied the cut, Dean stood up, bringing a large pile of scrap metal with him as he moved outside to drop it in the growing heap. After unloading the scraps, Dean took a good look at his hand. It was a shallow cut but the sheer amount of blood made it look worse than it actually was.

Inside the garage was a first aid kit. Dean walked over to it and pulled out a clean strip of bandage to wrap around the cut. Just as he was tying it off, Sam walked into the room. His face was blank, lacking any indication that the conversation with Bobby just minutes before had ever happened. Dean looked up at his brother quickly, scanning his face before looking back down at the poorly wrapped bandage covering his palm.

“Hey, Dean. What happened to you?” Sam asked, his voice unnaturally loud in Dean’s ears.

“Just a little cut. Maybe next time you could move this shit when I ask you to so stuff like this doesn’t happen,” Dean gestured at the remaining scraps on the garage floor, only small bits left.

“Oh man, Dean, I’m sorry I completely forgot.”

“Yeah I figured. It’s all right. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Dean stopped and lifted his eyes to meet Sam’s, contemplating what to say next. “Where were you, anyway?” he ventured, trying not to sound suspicious.

“Uh Bobby had to run out to the store but he was expecting a call so he sat me by the phone and wouldn’t let me leave. Supposed to be some big important call or something but the only person who called was Tom, asking about some car he brought in last week. But Bobby’s back now so here I am.”

 _“Damn the kid’s a good liar. Wonder where he picked that up,”_ Dean though to himself, a mix of pride and disappointment in his heart. _“Fine. If he really doesn’t want me to know, let him play his games and keep his secrets. He’ll tell me when he’s good and ready.”_

Out loud he said, “Well you’re here now, aren’t you? Let’s get to work.” Dean spread his arms and gestured at the two cars sitting in the back of the garage. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”


	7. Chapter 7

Nov. 16th, 1951--Meddleton, Idaho

_Scorching flames burst up in front of Dean, blocking the path to the stairs. He could hear his mother screaming upstairs, trapped in Sam’s nursery. The scream made Dean’s face screw up in panic and confusion. His head darted from left to right, frantically searching for a way upstairs. Suddenly, he saw a clear path to the foot of the stairs, so exceedingly obvious that Dean wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. As he crawled towards it, the floor beneath him began glowing a vivid blue, so bright it burned almost white. Squinting his eyes in the sudden flare of light, Dean felt his way to the stairs and made it to the top, glancing back to see the blue-white light fading and flames engulfing the previously bare floor._

_He turned purposefully away from the stairs and stood up cautiously. As soon as he could stand, he half-ran, half-stumbled down the hall, following the sound of his mother’s screams to Sam’s nursery. Before he got there though, he peeked into his own room just to make sure no one was in there. And to his horror, sitting on the bed, surrounded by flames that reflected in his wide, terrified blue eyes, was Cas. Dean’s mind went blank and he tripped backwards, arms flailing for any kind of support. He landed hard on the floor behind him, hearing it creak under his added weight after being eaten at so viciously by the fire._

_Cas couldn’t be here. Not in his house, not now. Cas was supposed to be safe, away from Dean. His head swam with confusion, and in front of his eyes the room bobbed and swayed._

_Dean’s mind cleared abruptly when he heard his mother scream again from the room next door. He remembered why he had come here: to save his mother. He crawled along the floor until he reached the nursery door and pushed it open feebly._

_Immediately, all the fire was gone. He was standing upright in Sam’s old nursery with the lights unusually bright. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the sudden change, it took Dean a while to realize that there was someone else in the room._

_He saw his mother first. She was sitting on the floor next to the crib, eyes wide and blonde hair messy. She looked as if she had been woken suddenly from a fitful sleep. Belatedly, Dean turned and saw his father swim into view. He was young; Dean recognized the pre-Navy mechanic from old photos stashed under John’s bed. His face was smooth and youthful yet somber and grave. His eyes bore into Dean’s soul as if picking him apart, piece by piece._

_Suddenly, the pressure lifted as John looked away. He turned, however, towards Mary and bent down until they were at eye-level. Mary’s lip quivered, but her eyes remained blazingly strong. After a pause, John moved slightly forward and whispered a single word into Mary’s ear. This sent his mother into a panic and she let out another scream, identical to the ones that had led Dean to her._

_Dean lunged forward, unsure of what he planned to do-_

And sat up abruptly in his bed, his sheets tangled around his sweaty body. His breathing was unnaturally fast as he tried to shake off the bad dream. Dean closed his eyes and gasped when he saw the image of Cas surrounded by flames burned onto the back of his eyelids. His eyes flew open once more and his throat felt tight. Hands fumbling, he pushed his sheets off and pushed himself out of bed.

He walked into the bathroom first, squinting in the sudden brightness when he turned on the lights. Looking in the mirror, he saw his blood-shot eyes and forehead covered with thick beads of sweat. He ran cold water over his hands and arms then splashed some across his face, hoping to wash away the memories of his most recent nightmare.

Dean had had dreams like this before; he’d relived the tragic fire scene more times than he could remember. They always ended the same: Dean standing in front of his mother as she was swallowed time and time again by the flames. No matter what he did, he could never save her.

This time had been different though. He’d seen _Cas_ in the flames, patiently waiting for a savior who would never come through. Why Cas? And why now? Dean hadn’t though about Cas in a few months and he considered that a good thing. Dean had accepted long ago that he and Cas were just children; they were each other’s first loves, but nothing more could ever come out of it. That didn’t mean that Dean never thought about him though, and apparently his subconscious had picked up on that.

Turning the light off and walking down the hall to the kitchen, Dean puzzled over the next part of his dream. His mother and father in the same room, and what had his father whispered that made her so upset?

Dean opened the refrigerator and pulled out two beers. He moved silently through the house, picking up his coat and putting on his shoes. Dean looked around the living room one last time before slipping out the back door, taking the long dirt road out to the car yard.

Once outside, he broke a beer open and took a long drag, savoring the heavy drink as it poured down his throat. He pulled the bottle away from his lips and watched as his breath came out in puffs of warm steam in the cold November air, thankful for his leather jacket.

He made his way through the rows of cars under the soft light of the moon until he came to the black Kaiser. Leaning back against the car’s front hood, Dean tilted his head towards the sky and closed his eyes. He took a couple of deep breaths before opening his eyes again and his mouth opened involuntarily under the vastness of the stars above him. It had been so long since he had taken the time to look out at the stars and he had forgotten how beautiful, how magnificent they were.

Dean lifted his beer to his lips and took a sip, his eyes fixed on the stars overhead. They shone so brightly, as if aware that Dean was watching them, spellbound. They put on a show for him, twinkling and multiplying the longer he looked; as he focused harder, more stars came into view, each one just as beautiful as the one before it.

Lying there, with the heavens open above him, Dean suddenly felt very small. And very alone.

He remembered, all those years ago, standing in Cas’s embrace and promising to write letters regularly and look to the stars when he felt lonely. Dean had stopped writing letters so long ago; he had just started high school when he first threw Cas’s letters away without reading them. It was too hard for Dean to hold the very paper that Cas had held without being able to touch Cas or talk to him directly. So he threw the letters straight in the trash as if they were poison, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold back his emotions. After a while they stopped coming.

Overhead the stars continued to shine. They truly were eternal, just as Cas had said their love would be. Recalling their childish naivety, Dean scoffed. The beer bottle came up to meet his lips and he tilted it far back and emptied the rest of its contents in one large swallow. The buzz in his head that followed blocked out any further thoughts about Cas.

Dean tossed the empty beer bottle on the grass by his feet and broke the second one open. He hesitated before drinking it, though. As if possessed by some strange feeling of remorse, Dean lifted his bottle towards the sky, just for the hell of it. “Here’s to you, Cas. As long as stars shine, right?”

\--

The walk back to the house was eerily quiet and as the moon moved behind the clouds, Dean was confronted with jumping shadows that kept him alert. He felt an unconscious sense of relief when he slipped through the back door and locked it behind him. Shedding his shoes and jacket, he made his way back down the hall to his room.

It was exactly as he had left it, sheets wadded in a ball and pushed to the foot of the bed, pillows scattered all over the floor. Wary of repeating his nightmare, Dean pulled a spare blanket from the closet and spread it on the wooden floor. He found an extra comforter in the hall linen closet, though he still wasn’t sure how Bobby was organized enough to keep up with that kind of stuff, and made himself a makeshift bed on the floor for the remaining hours of the night.

Lying on the stiff floor, it took Dean a while to adjust and slip into the tender embrace of sleep. His dreams were pleasant, though upon awakening, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he had dreamed about. He only knew it had something to do with a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed boy.

\--

Dec. 7th 1951--Meddleton, Idaho

Sam awoke early as he always did on school days but immediately sensed that something about today was different. He rolled out of bed and walked over to his calendar, eyes widening when he say the date.

_“Damn, December 7 th again already. Times flies,”_ he thought to himself.

It had been ten years since that fateful day when his father had died in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Sam remembered the strangest details about that day, like sleeping in Dean’s lap in the shelter and walking back to the house after the bombing had stopped and seeing a single yellow dandelion pushing its way through the crack in the sidewalk. But try as he might, he couldn’t remember the important things, like the last thing his father had said to him.

It was things like this that kept him up at night. Often times Sam laid awake for several hours trying to piece together what his father had been wearing on that last day, or what they had eaten for breakfast. But the thing that ate at Sam the most was the fact the he could never remember the last thing his father had ever said to him.

Pushing the thought away, Sam pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a wrinkled but clean button down shirt. He got dressed quickly, tucking his shirt in and pushing his floppy hair out of his face. Almost all of the boys at school wore their hair short or greased back but Sam had neither the time nor the patience to worry about his appearance.

He ran his toothbrush over his teeth and gargled some warm water before scooping up his backpack and walking down the hall into the kitchen.

Dean, as usual, was already awake and drinking a cup of coffee at the table.

“When are you gonna quit drinking that stuff, Dean? You don’t even like it.” Sam said as a way of greeting his older brother.

“One day, Sam, you’ll learn that a lot of times you have to do things you don’t want to in order to get by. Coffee’s the only thing that wakes me up and keeps me going these days, and so coffee it’ll be. Hey, since tomorrow’s Saturday why don’t you come out and help me in the garage? You haven’t been out there in a while.” Dean studied Sam’s face while keeping his own neutral.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, Dean. I’ve got a lot of homework, what with midterms right around the corner. Maybe some other time?” Sam turned away form Dean so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on his brother’s face. Instead, he busied himself with pouring a glass of orange juice.

“Yeah…okay, Sammy, sure. You do what you gotta do.” Dean paused. “I just, I don’t know, I just thought it’d be nice to work together for a while…you know, in honor of Dad.”

Sam groaned internally. He hated when Dean dragged their father into the argument. It was a guilt trip and Sam fell for it every time.

“That sounds great, Dean. That’s a really good idea, actually, what with today being what it is and all…”

The two brothers sat in silence for a few minutes until Sam glanced at the clock and realized that the bus would be coming by any minute. He put his glass in the sink and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“See you later, Dean.”

“Yeah. Have a good day at school, Sam.” Dean said, his body unnaturally stiff and his eyes fixed on the newspaper in front of him.

\--

As soon as Sam was gone, Dean slid down in his chair and closed his eyes. He was just dozing off when Bobby walked in.

“Wakey wakey, princess. Time to get to work,” he said loudly, startling Dean and almost causing him to spill his coffee.

“Dammit, Bobby! What was that for?”

“Like I said, son, time to get to work. Let’s go, come on. We ain’t got all day.”

Dean followed Bobby out to the garage, bracing himself against the winter winds. Luckily, it didn’t snow much in the southern grasslands of Idaho, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t cold. Dean turned up the collar of his jacket and then quickly stuffed his hands back into his pockets.

Inside the garage was not much warmer, but at least there was no wind. Dean shook out his stiff arms and looked around at the various car parts that resided in the garage. Something in the far corner caught his eye and his mouth opened slightly as he stretched his neck to see what was hiding on the other side of the garage. He saw the telltale black gleam of the hood and shook his head, eyes widening. “No way,” he breathed.

Bobby stood watching Dean, eyes dancing. “It thought you might enjoy a little project to get you through Christmas. I know it’s not high up on your list of favorite holidays.” Bobby walked across the garage and threw back the tarp that covered the Kaiser. “Here’s the deal: if you can fix her up in less than, let’s say six months, you can keep her. Sound fair?”

Dean followed Bobby over to the Kaiser, his mouth still hanging open. “You’re…you’re not making a joke or anything?” Dean’s eyes shifted to Bobby face, waiting for the catch.

“I see the way you look at this car, Dean, and I appreciate that. Consider this your Christmas present for the rest of your life.”

“Damn, Bobby, I don’t know what to say…” Dean ran his hand along the rusted roof of the car and gently tapped on the corroded metal of the trunk.

“Don’t say anything, ya idjit, just get to work. Remember, you’ve got six months. Any longer than that and deal’s off and she goes out to the highest bidder.” Bobby gave Dean a nod and turned back to his own project.

Dean ran an appraising eye over the car. His mouth slid into a satisfied grin as the reality situation finally set in. The car was as good as his. Six months was more than enough time for Dean, especially once he committed and really put his mind to it. He walked in a slow circle around the car, looking it up and down. Sure, it would be a hell of a job, but Dean was definitely up for a challenge.


	8. Chapter 8

Meddleton, Idaho

Dean spent everyday in the garage for the next month. Christmas came and went and off came the body frame of the car. New Year’s Day passed and the car was down to its bare skeleton. The month of January was almost over when Dean started to replace mechanical parts and work on the engine of the car.

Bobby, of course, had expected this but maybe not to this degree. Dean barely slept; he stayed up late working on the car and woke early to get a head start on the day. It had been years since he had seen Dean this focused, though, so Bobby didn’t comment on Dean’s unusual sleep patterns.

Sam was busy with school, as always. He noticed Dean’s absence but couldn’t really spare any time to seek his brother out and ask about his sudden determination and almost obsession with the car. He felt that it would be better to keep his distance from Dean; while working on a project like this, Dean established a strict routine and didn’t like that routine to be interrupted. So Sam stayed in the house most days and if he did go out to the garage, he didn’t stay long because Dean would be too engrossed in the car to notice anything going on around him. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, necessarily. He just got so determined to fix whatever was in front of him that he often times forgot that he had other responsibilities as well.

Everything with the car was moving along pretty well from Dean’s perspective. Granted, the car’s engine was a six cylinder, allowing a lot of room for damage. The months that the car had spent out in the weather hadn’t helped either. Dean removed piece after piece trying to find just how deep the damage went. Whatever had happened to make the car the way it was, it must’ve been a hell of an accident.

Covered in grease and sweat, Dean wiped a grimy rag across his forehead. He had woken up especially early since it was a Saturday and he had the whole day to work on the car. During the week, he had to take car of Sam and worked mainly with Bobby on the cars whose owners had paid good money to have fixed up within the week.

But Saturdays, Dean worked solely on his baby, the black Kaiser. He fell into his comfortable routine; it was a kind of restoring therapy that Dean couldn’t live without.

By the time February came around, Dean had managed to fix most of the mechanical problems within the engine and shifted his focus to rebuilding the body of the car. He spent many hours each morning out in the car yard, looking for any old parts and pieces that matched the size and shape of the Kaiser. He turned a scrutinizing eye towards every lone fender, every discarded door.

He began a pile of anything and everything that looked like it might work. As February went by, the pile shrunk as Dean went through it, trial-and-error style; he held up the pieces to the car one by one and tried to make them fit.

Late one Friday night, Dean finally found a side panel that fit with the floor of the car’s original body. Not believing his luck, he called Bobby over to make sure that the two pieces actually fit together.

“Looks like a pretty good fit to me, Dean. Good find.”

“Thanks, Bobby. Just wanted to make sure I’m not going crazy or anything. I’ve tried so many damn panels I don’t know up from down anymore.”

Bobby nodded. “I know that feeling for sure.” He turned slightly, as if ready to close down for the night and walk back to the house.

“Bobby,” Dean said quickly, causing the older man to turn back and face Dean.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, shook his head and looked down at the floor. His mouth twisted into a crooked grimace, berating himself for wasting Bobby’s time.

“You got something to say, boy, say it,” Bobby said at last.

Dean nodded, lips pursed. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just,” Dean began. “…How’s Sam?”

Bobby stared at Dean, his mouth slightly open. His eyes narrowed sharply. “Well, hell, I don’t know, Dean. How the hell should I know? Am I Sam? I can’t believe it Dean.” Bobby shook his head. “I didn’t give you this project so you’d have an excuse not to talk to your brother. You want to know how Sam’s doing, why don’t you just get off your high horse and ask him, you numskull!” Bobby fixed Dean with a stern gaze as he said these last words.

“You wanna know why I ‘ignore’ Sam? Why I use working on this car as an ‘excuse’? It’s because I have no other options. Sam doesn’t want anything to do with these cars, or with you, and especially not with me. He’s too good for us, Bobby. I don’t talk to Sam because he doesn’t talk to me. And you know what I say?” Dean paused, running his hand along his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, more quiet, and venomous. “I say fine. I say let the kid get used to not talking to the only real family he’s got left. What better way to prepare him for college is there?” Dean began pacing next to the Kaiser, ignoring Bobby’s attempts to defend Sam.

“He wants to get out of here, Bobby,” Dean said, angrily punctuating his words. “And he ain’t planning on coming back. I know about Sam’s ‘big secret’. His plan to escape to college fantasy land. And you know what really gets me? If he had brought the college issue straight to me, we could’ve talked about it and worked out some kind of deal. But instead, he gets this great idea to keep it all a secret, to not tell me anything, to not even give me a _chance_ to work through this with him. Is that really how family treats each other? I though we were better than that.” Dean stopped suddenly.

“And you, Bobby. You _knew_. And you were gonna help him keep me in the dark, even if it meant lying straight to my face. So excuse me for not talking to Sam in a while, Bobby, but he obviously has nothing that he feels the need to talk to me about.” With that, Dean shoved past Bobby and went out into the winter night.

Still in his plain but stain-riddled white work shit and an old pair of torn dungarees, the cold air bit at Dean’s exposed arms and he felt his back, still wet with sweat, begin to tingle and sting. He was sweaty and covered in grease and dirt but he didn’t stop to think. He was too furious to think.

First he was furious because of the way Sam and Bobby had been treating him recently. Immediately after that thought crossed his mind though, Dean realized that he was more infuriated by his own behavior. He was acting selfish and childish and wanted to beat himself for exploding and taking it all out on Bobby. He had just kept everything so pent up inside that once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.

Dean walked quickly down the path towards the house, ignoring Bobby’s voice behind him calling for him to stop and talk things out. Hearing Bobby’s pathetic pleas, Dean scoffed and walked faster. If he talked anymore about it tonight, he may as well just write a damn book.

The winter wind cut across bare arms and he was more than relieved when he reached the house. He threw open the screen door and moved through the house swiftly before Bobby caught up or Sam noticed that something was going on.

Dean grabbed his wallet and slung his leather jacket over his shoulder. He rummaged through the pockets until he pulled out what he was after.

Clutching his car keys in his hand, Dean pushed the front door open angrily and walked out into the driveway.  He climbed in his battered Ford F-1, looking for an escape. The engine started on the third try and Dean threw it in reverse just as Bobby appeared on the front porch. As Dean shifted gears to drive, he saw Sam come up behind Bobby and peer out into the darkness. A shadow fell over Sam’s face but Dean swore that his brother had a look of- what was it? It was almost pity, but closer to a sad sort of acceptance; it was as if Sam had expected Dean to run out in the middle of the night with no indication of when he’d be back. Dean cursed his brother under his breath and then stepped on the gas, desperate to get away from the only people in the world that he truly cared about.

\--

Dean drove for miles. He turned down the open highway and let his body take over; he was tired of overthinking everything. In his gray truck he passed exit after exit with no intention of stopping.

He knew that none of this was Bobby’s fault- or Sam’s for that matter. Dean was the only one reacting negatively to the idea of Sam going to college and it was for selfish reasons. Dean felt like shit for taking it all out on Bobby and blaming Sam for actions that were all his own selfish over exaggerations. But he couldn’t go there, not now at least. Bobby and Sam deserved some time to themselves without having to Deal with Dean. He’d find somewhere to stay for a few nights; hell, he’d sleep in the truck if he had to.

A few hours Dean saw a sign that pointed to a bar and motel joint, so he turned off the main and followed the new dirt road until he came to a large building designed to make look like an old-fashioned log cabin. Behind the building were several smaller ones; Dean figured those were the lodgings advertised in the sign.

Pulling his truck into a mostly deserted parking lot, Dean surveyed the larger building. There was a soft yellow light that snuck through the blinds on the windows and slipped through the bottom of the door. He could hear music playing faintly, overshadowed by the sounds of people talking and drinking.

Dean pulled his leather jacket tight over his grimy t-shirt as he made his way to the front door. Just as he was reaching out to push the door open, it was swept inward and a large, smelly man was pushed through. Dean jumped out of the way just before the man stumbled and tripped on his own feet, sending him to the ground.

“And stay out, you filthy bastard! Don’t make me pull out the shotgun. Because I will use it, you hear me? Now get out of my sight. And if I ever see you on this land again I’ll skin your ass and hang it from that there tree!”

A dark-haired woman was standing defiantly in the glow of the threshold, round face caressed by the light that streamed out into the darkness from the room behind her.

The man rolled around on the front porch, trying to gain his footing while supporting an impressively large beer belly. When he was finally able to stand, he stood looking blankly at Dean. After a short moment, it became too much for him and he began to sway, arms flailing as he stumbled towards the stairs. After a moment of hesitation, Dean moved forward and caught the man with a strong and sturdy arm. He guided the man to the steps and watched as the latter moved slowly one by one down the steps, shaking Dean’s hand off his arm.

The man disappeared into a green truck and Dean heard the engine catch a few times before starting. The car backed out and turned away from the bar, driving off into the darkness.

“You didn’t have to help him,” Dean heard a feathery voice behind him say. He turned to see the woman standing close behind him. “He’s the biggest asshole in town. In several towns, actually.” She continued. While she was talking, her eyes moved languidly down Dean’s body before traveling back up to meet his eyes. “What town _you_ from, baby?” She laughed, a deep throaty laugh that put Dean at ease. “Why don’t you come on in, honey, we’ll warm you right up.” Her voice was low and soft, but it held his attention and he grinned at her. She winked and walked backwards a few steps, eyes locked on Dean’s, before turning and sauntering into the bar.

Dean followed as she made her way through the tables and walked behind the bar. He swung a stool out and sat down heavily. “Gimme something strong,” he said, nodding at the bottles that lined the back wall. He eyed the dark-haired woman as she set to work fixing him a drink.

She was well-built, wearing a light pink blouse that had come unbuttoned and hung low on her chest. She wore a pair of sleek black pants that almost seemed too fancy for the joint but accented her full figure nicely. Dean couldn’t help himself and watched with an interested eye as she bent down to grab a clean glass from under the counter. From his seat on the bar he could see her breasts swell and he ducked his head as she caught him looking. She gave him a sly grin and walked to the back wall and picked out a bottle of Scotch whisky. “How about this one’s on me?” She poured the scotch into Dean’s glass and slid it across the counter.

He caught the glass and raised it to eye level, inspecting the contents.

“That’s pure malt whisky, honey. Best stuff we’ve got. Rare, too. You sure you can handle it?” she asked, her voice moving up and down fluidly. She crossed her arms and rested them on the counter in front of her, pushing her breasts forward and her shoulders back.

“There’s not much I can’t handle, darlin’,” Dean said with a wink. He lifted the glass to his lips before saying, “I’m a big boy.”

At that, the woman straightened up and laughed, her voice traveling up and down several octaves.

Dean took a sip of his drink and watched the woman as the liquid went down hard, burning his throat.

She brought her hands down to the edge of the counter and shrugged her shoulders. “Alright, I’ll bite. The name’s Meg. You got a name or are you traveling anonymously? You know, adding to the whole Mr. Mysterious?”

Dean’s mouth twitched into a grin as he took another sip of the scotch. He looked into the woman’s- Meg’s eyes a moment before deciding what the hell, why not have a little fun.

“Dean. Pleased to meet you, Meg, believe me.”

“Oh well there’s more where that came from,” she answered.

Meg picked up a rag and began wiping down the counter. It was only then that Dean looked up and realized that he was the only left in the building. He turned back to Meg and asked, “Who owns this place, anyway?”

As she made her way around cleaning the tables, Meg told Dean about Mr. Crowley. The man had apparently worked his way across the country before suddenly stopping and opening the motel and bar. “The man was a genius. People flocked to the bar, got drunk and happy, and then could just lodge in one of the rooms out there. No chance for drunken car accidents or sleeping in the car- everything you could need was right here.”

Dean nodded, watching Meg as she leaned over the back table to wipe it clean. Her body moved so fluidly, he wondered- he shook the thought away before he got too carried away. “You keep saying ‘was’. Something happen to this Crowley guy?”

Meg threw the dirty rag behind the counter, nodding. “Franchise.” Her voice became suddenly more serious, dropping its playful lilt. “Some suits came in looking to open up a chain of businesses with the same services, same damn layout, even.” She shrugged her shoulders and her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Crowley didn’t like it at all- flat out turned them down and threatened them to get off the land. Long story short he got black-listed and was arrested not long after that. Judge said something about overdue taxes but Crowley wasn’t the kind of man to miss a payment, you know? In any case, he’s never been heard from since then. They don’t fuck around with communists down here, hon, even if you’re damn Uncle Sam in the flesh. If they think you’ve got that ‘red’ blood in you, you’re as good as dead.”

She trailed off, staring blankly at the counter. Dean’s eyes traveled over her round face, over her slightly crimped dark brown hair, and ended up on her breasts.

“So now the place is technically out of order. Crowley left me the place before he was dragged away by the feds and we get enough support from the surrounding towns to keep open a few months of the year. There’s also some anonymous donations that come through every once and a while. I think they’re from Crowley himself, but who knows for sure. But to answer your question, I guess it’s me who owns the place now. I get a lot of hell from the ladies of the towns; they don’t believe a woman should be running a bar and hostel but it’s good business and I honestly couldn’t care less what those women think. Funny though, none of the men seem to mind…Dean?”

It took him a moment to realize that she had finished talking and he raised his eyes to look into her open face, her eyes questioning.

“You okay, baby?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes with his hand until he saw white spots. When he took his hand away, he saw that Meg had refilled his drink and was pouring one of her own. He nodded his thanks as she moved around the counter to sit on the next to him.

“That’s not the face of a man who’s even remotely ‘fine’. Tell me about it, Dean. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Dean sighed heavily, shaking his head. He took a large gulp of scotch and turned to Meg.

“Look, I’m not really one for talking, you know? But it’s just…my brother…he- uh, doesn’t seem to want me around anymore. I mean, he hasn’t come right out and said it, but I can just sorta tell.” Dean swirled the liquid in the glass around, watching it slosh up the sides of the glass and daring it to spill. “And this kid, he’s my little brother which means he’s my responsibility. And now suddenly he wants to go to college and escape from this small town without even telling me?” He paused, taking time to raise his glass to his lips and down the rest. Beside him, Meg drank, too. They sat in silence for a while before Dean murmured, “I just wish I knew where I went wrong.” He placed his empty glass down on the counter and turned to find Meg looking at him intently, her eyes hooded.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, her voice sweet and slow. Dean was vaguely aware of her hand on his upper thigh. He looked into her eyes and watched as she blinked slowly, her big brown eyes traveling freely over his body. He felt himself nodding and saw her shift her body more towards him, closing the gap between them.

His rough hands came up to either side of her pale face and he pulled it abruptly to his own. Their lips met heavily, and Dean heard the bar stool squeak against the floor as Meg moved forwards, pushing her body in between his legs and against his chest.

Dean’s hands moved through Meg’s hair and traveled down her back, ghosting over her blouse until they made contact with the sweet curve of her ass. Meg grabbed Dean’s hand and guided it lower until he was holding her ass in his hand. He tried to stand up but Meg pushed him back down on the bar stool with her free hand and kissed him, rolling her body against his.

Her thin blouse caught on the zipper of his jacket, tearing a hole. Meg looked down at the blouse and than back at Dean, her hand trailing across his skin and through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’d better get this shirt off me before it rips anymore,” her lips moved on his as she spoke and Dean tightened his grip on her ass. He stood slowly, their bodies sliding together.

“As you wish.”

\--

They crashed through the front door of Meg’s house, a small cabin in the woods behind all the rest. As soon as the door shut they were at each other with a desperate passion. It had been so long since Dean had allowed himself contact like this, and he realized belatedly that he had missed it.

He shed his jacket quickly and grabbed Meg’s waist. He fumbled with her blouse and hastily jerked it up, unable to wait any longer. Meg’s arms came up and their bodies separated briefly while Dean pulled the blouse over Meg’s head.

Underneath she wore a white camisole and Dean cursed. He didn’t know what was driving his insane desire, but he did know that he need Meg’s naked body on his as soon as possible.

He fidgeted slightly, impatient, as Meg reached for the button on her pants.

“Slow down, big boy”, she said, voice mocking. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

She bit her lip and slipped the pants off, followed by her camisole, leaving her standing in front of him in a pair of black silky underwear and a plain white lacey bra.

Dean closed his eyes as she moved closer, sliding her hands under his white t-shirt. Skin tingling, he pulled the shirt over his head and threw it across the rom. He grabbed Meg and picked her up, their bodies rubbing together. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist and she clung to his neck. She bent down, forcing Dean’s mouth open with her tongue.

He moaned softly and let Meg in, their tongues meeting tentatively at first. Then she crashed into him, tasting like whiskey and ore subtly, apples. Dean shifted his hold on Meg, moving his hands down and holding her thighs as they kissed fiercely, mouths and tongues moving against each other, exploring.

With a grunt Dean walked towards the bedroom with Meg in his arms; he needed her _now_. They pushed into the room and started towards the bed, hardly stopping for breath. Dean stumbled and they crashed into the wall, knocking something off of the shelf as they passed.

Pinned between Dean’s body and the cold surface of the wall, Meg arched her back and leaned her head back, her breasts coming forwards. Dean leaned over her chest and laid his open mouth against the bare skin he found. Meg breathed heavily as Dean’s warm tongue traveled over the sensitive skin on her chest. He felt her inhale, then exhale deeply and he bit at her lacey bra, pulling it back with his teeth to reveal her round breast, the nipple taut and expectant.

Exhaling on a low growl, Dean pulled Meg away from the wall and carried her to the bed. She landed softly, pulling Dean down on top of her. Mouths locked they both worked at Dean’s belt buckle and then at the button on his pants. He kicked the grease-stained pants off and laid his body low on top of Meg’s. She rolled under his weight, pushing her hips up to meet the bare skin on his stomach. Her hands moved from his neck and traveled down the length of his spine, dancing along the waistline of his underwear.

Suddenly her hands were on his and she guided them to her own pair of silky black underwear. Dean looked into her eyes as his hands gripped the silky material and moved down. She stared back at him, unwavering, and helped push the underwear down her legs and throw it off the bed. Dean’s hands ran slowly up her legs, spreading them open and kissing the insides of her thighs.

Meg let out a high-pitched sigh and reached out for Dean. He trailed kisses all the way up as he moved from her cunt, over her stomach, and finally finding her lips. She sat up slightly, legs spreading around him and he took the opportunity to unclasp her bra and throw it to the side.

Her breasts were heavy in his hands and he kissed each one slowly. He moved them around in his hands, watching Meg’s face as he did so. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyes were hooded, staring at his mouth. Belatedly, Dean felt Meg’s hands back at the waistline of his underwear and he laid her back down on the bed before helping her take them off. Completely naked, Dean took a minute to take in Meg’s body as she lay beneath him on the bed.

Her whole body was pale, but it reminded him of a delicate porcelain doll; it was simple yet shockingly beautiful. She smiled sweetly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and he grinned back at her.

He felt his dick getting harder as he brought his body down roughly on hers. He kissed every inch of skin in sight, his hands tangled in her dark hair. Meg moaned at the sudden change in Dean’s behavior and writhed under Dean’s touch, desperate for him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her legs weaved between Dean’s own, rubbing her cunt along Dean’s boner.

They rolled along the length of the bed until Dean found his pants and reached into the pocket to pull out his wallet. He yanked a condom out and threw the pants and the wallet back on the floor. Now lying under Meg’s sweaty body, Dean ripped the packet open with his teeth and worked quickly to get the condom on, afraid that he would come before they even got going.

Meg bent low over Dean’s warm body and moved down to his dick, her hands arriving there first. She cradled him in her hands before she shifted her body until her mouth was kissing Dean’s soft skin. Dean’s hands clenched and unclenched as she danced around, leaving wet kisses everywhere except-

And now she had him in her mouth. His hands grabbed the sheets as she started moving her tongue around, forcing a moan from Dean’s throat. He felt the heat building inside him, knew what would happen in just a moment or two.

Mouth moving faster, Meg’s eyes flew to Dean’s face. He looked at her and she could see it in his eyes and she felt his hips thrust up. Quickly, Meg slithered up Dean’s body, meshing their mouths together as Dean thrust up and into her.

Feeling him warm inside of her, Meg’s mouth opened and her eyes squeezed shut. Dean began rocking, each turn becoming faster and easier as Meg wet herself. Feeling stronger, Dean rolled over until he had Meg trapped under his body and began thrusting harder. The heat that had built up inside of Dean was almost unbearable now and he moved faster, picking up the pace until he felt himself coming, his warmth spreading over Meg’s body.

She arched her back, forcing Dean further inside her. He pinned Meg’s arms down with his hands and rocked into her until he found her sweet spot and she let out a loud groan. Dean slowed his thrusts as she rode it out, still letting out a soft moan every time their flesh met.

Releasing her arms, Dean bent down to suck on Meg’s breasts which had been taunting him ever since he got that first drink. He moved inside of her agonizingly slowly and Meg gasped and grabbed his ass with her hands. She pulled him into her again and again, establishing a better rhythm. Dean grinned at her desperateness, responding to her calls for more.

His warm tongue moved over her breasts and stomach as they fucked again, more controlled this time. Afterwards, Dean slowly pulled himself away and lay next to Meg in the tangled sheets. Meg sighed and rolled over until her body was pressed into the side of Dean’s. She casually draped her leg over his and entwined their legs together. Her hand came up to wipe away the sweat that had formed on Dean’s forehead. He looked back at her in the darkness.

Her eyes were large and honest. “And how was that, honey?” she asked in a whisper.

Dean responded by kissing her on the forehead. He kept his mouth close to her face as he answered, “I can’t even begin to tell you.”

He felt rather than saw her smile at his words and he lay back on the pillow, satisfied. Damn, he had forgotten how good this felt. His eyes scanned the dark ceiling, pretending to find shapes in the shadows. After a while he heard Meg’s breath deepen and he looked over to find her asleep. He kissed her dark hair gently and closed his own eyes, taking in her scent. He fell asleep not long after with Meg at his side and didn’t wake up until the light of the morning shone into the room.


	9. Chapter 9

When Dean awoke, the sun was peeking through the gaps in Meg’s thick curtains. He rubbed his eyes and looked to find the bed empty next to him. Staring back up at the ceiling, Dean’s eyes shifted out of focus as he watched the dust particles in the air float in and out of the light. He could hear the shower faintly in the bathroom across the hall and closed his eyes; he felt like he could sleep for days.

Eventually, Dean’s empty stomach forced him out of bed and stumbling across the room. Pulling on his pants, he winced as he stepped on something hard and sharp and bent down to pick up a small picture frame. He set the frame back on the shelf and started to turn away when the picture in the frame caught his attention. Dean brought the picture closer to his face, squinting to make out the features of the black and white photo in the half-light of the morning.

It was a picture of Meg on some beach with a man. She wore a dark one-piece that clung to her body as she stood in the arms of a stranger. The man had slid his arms around her shoulders and her bathing suit strap had fallen down her arm, revealing pure white skin on her chest, untouched by the sun’s rays. Her hair was curled and out of her face and damn she looked good. Dean smiled lazily to himself when he saw how happy she looked.

His eyes moved to the strange man and it was like being hit with a forty ton brick wall. Dean’s eyes snapped open, all traces of sleep pushed out of his system. He shook his head slightly in disbelief and backed away from the picture. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Dean stared at the picture in shock. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, no matter how hard he tried.

The picture was a little grainy and the details were hard to make out but the contrast of the man’s messy dark hair against the lighter gray of the sky surrounding the two on the beach made it almost impossible to mistake him. His sharp jaw was softened by his wide smile as he stood tall next to Meg. Even with the absence of color in the picture, Dean could still see the shockingly blue eyes of the man looking directly into the camera. Directly at Dean.

Dean dropped the frame as if it had burned his skin and heard it shatter when it hit the floor. As if in a dream, he rocked numbly in place before stumbling out of the room and into the hallway. Behind him he heard the shower shut off and Meg calling out to see if everything was all right. The walls around him began to twist and the floor pitched under his feet. Dean threw a hand out to steady himself and breathed heavily, propped up against the wall.

He didn’t hear Meg come up behind him and he turned sharply when he felt her cool hand on his shoulder, his hands balled into fists and coming up defensively. She flinched and stepped back quickly, out of his grasp. Her face was twisted in confusion and worry as she stood wrapped in her towel, hair still wet.

“Dean. Tell me, Dean, what happened? What’s wrong?” Her voice came out high-pitched and urgent.

His head swam as he tried to focus on her concerned face in front of him. Dean shook away the ringing in his ears and pushed past Meg, back into the bedroom. He picked up the frame from where it lay face down on the floor, careful not to look too closely at the picture inside. The glass of the frame was shattered and he shoved the picture in Meg’s face.

“Where the hell,” he spoke slowly, voice low and shaky, “did you get this?”

Meg’s eyes were wide, flicking over Dean’s face and then to the picture in his hand quickly. Her lips pursed as she shook her head slightly.

“I don’t understand. Dean, what’s going on? Please-”

“Tell me who this man is and how you know him, dammit!” Dean said loudly, interrupting her.

She swallowed before saying, “He’s just…some California guy I met one summer. I guess, I don’t know, I guess we had a thing? I haven’t seen him since, though, if that’s what you wanna know.”

Dean looked away from Meg’s face, jaw working. “And his name?”

“His name was Cas, but what’s it to you?”

Dean shoved the picture into Meg’s arms, and turned away, pacing.

“Look, Dean, you got a problem with me you gotta let me know,” Meg said, her voice harsher as she talked to Dean’s back.

“Did you fuck?” Dean said quietly.

“ _What?_ ” Meg asked incredulously.

“You and Cas! Did you fuck? Answer me truthfully or I swear to god-”

“Why is that any of your business? Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Meg’s voice rose to a yell as she threw the picture frame down on the bed and used both hands to hold her towel in place. “Yes we fucked! And I loved every goddamned minute of it! I’d drop to my knees, mouth open in a second if I knew he was coming back. Happy now?”

He couldn’t figure out why he was acting like this, it wasn’t like Meg had done anything wrong. It was just- seeing Cas’s face looking at his own with his arms wrapped protectively around Meg…something inside of him had just snapped. “Son of a bitch,” Dean said, lacing his fingers together and bringing his hands up to rest on his head. “You goddamned-"

“Who gave you the fucking right to come in here and act like this?” Meg shouted angrily, eyes blazing. “Who do you think you are, that you can just barge into _my_ home, fuck me in _my_ bed, and treat me like shit afterwards because you’re not my first? What the hell, Dean? If this is some sort of jealousy issue, then damn you’re a selfish pig.” She turned away, shaking her head.

“You think that’s what this is about? You don’t know the first thing about me, Meg, so don’t jump to conclusions when you don’t know my side of the story,” Dean replied.

Meg rounded on Dean yelling, “I don’t care about your side, Dean. I don’t want to know the first thing about you. I want you to get the fuck out of my house and if I ever see you on this property again I swear to god I will send you straight to hell!”

“Meg-”

“Out!” she screamed, bending down to pick up Dean’s shirt. She threw it across the room at him before picking up his jacket. She flung it towards him, hitting him squarely in the face. The metal zipper hit his cheek hard and left a sting. 

“Fine!” he shouted back at Meg. “I’ll leave. And you know what? I hope Cas does come back. I hope you suck his dick and fuck him just like you fucked me. I hope you bend over for him every night of your life until he gets tired of your shit. Beacuse he''l get tired, trust me. And you’ll be alone. Then let me know how happy you are. Maybe we can ride down to hell together.”   

Dean stalked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the front door. “Thanks for the free scotch, Meg.” He made it down the front steps, clothes and shoes bundled in his arms, before he heard the door open behind him and Meg come out. He turned to see her, one hand holding up her towel, the other holding the picture frame with her and Cas inside. 

“ _See you in hell, you fucker!_ ” she screamed and threw the frame towards him. He tried to bring his hands up to block his face but his arms were tangled up in his shirt and jacket so he braced himself and felt the frame collide with his temple, broken glass finding the bare skin of his forehead. Meg stormed back into the house and slammed the door.

Dean dropped what he was carrying and reached up to feel his forehead. The left side of his face was sticky with blood and he could feel small pieces of glass imbedded in his skin as he ran his hand over his face. That son of a bitch. Fuming, Dean picked up his clothes and began to walk back towards his truck.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the picture frame on the ground, the photo completely freed from the glass that once bound it. After a moment of hesitation, Dean reached down and tugged the photo out of the frame. Using his teeth, he ripped it straight down the middle, tearing Meg and Cas apart. He let out a short, low laugh and let go of the half with Meg on it. It floated down to the ground and was carried away with the breeze. Dean carefully tucked the picture of Cas into his pants pockets and made his way back through the woods to his car.

Sitting comfortably in his truck he put his shirt back on and pulled on his stiff leather jacket. He pulled the picture of Cas out of his pocket and transferred it to one of the back pouched of his wallet. After a few turns, his truck finally started and he pulled out onto the open road, heading back home.

\--

It took Dean several hours to get home; he hadn’t realized just how far he had driven the night before. The road home was clear and bright as Dean drove along. He only passed a few other cars traveling on the road and other than that, it was an empty journey.

Alone in the car, Dean did anything he could do to escape his thoughts. He hummed a few songs to himself, he rolled down the windows for a while, anything to distract himself. But in his bleak solitude, his mind went rampant as thoughts crashed over him in ceaseless, persistent waves. Thoughts of Cas crept up his spine and were whispered in his ears.   

Dean began absentmindedly tapping his foot in a mad rhythm and had to stop himself from drifting across the road’s painted lines into the other lane. After miles of this continuous mental and physical battle, Dean caved and pulled the truck to the side of the road. He came to a rough stop, threw it in park and yanked the keys out of the ignition.

Head in his hands, elbows leaning on the steering wheel, Dean sat silently as he allowed the levee in his mind to break. Images of Cas’ face appeared, mixed in with Meg’s naked body. He remembered the way the scotch had swirled in his glass as he relived the night before, now with the knowledge of the history between Meg and Cas.

He felt cheated; he felt awkwardly clumsy and in the way and unnecessary. He hated feeling this way. He hadn’t expected the night with Meg to last longer than it had, but that didn’t stop him from feeling unwanted. And of course he hadn’t seen Cas in over ten years but by god that boy’s face haunted his dreams.

Dean shook his head slowly, eyes shut tightly, hid face locked in a pained grimace. It wasn’t fair- that he should have feelings this strong for a boy he had only truly know for a matter of months. Dean doubted that Cas even remembered him. And if he did, it sure as hell wasn’t romantically. They had just been kids. “It’s just a phase,” everyone always said. And surely that’s all it was for Cas. A brief phase of childhood dependency- just a lonely kid looking for a friend.

But for Dean it was so much more. That much was confirmed from the sick feeling he got in his stomach every time he pictured Cas. Alone or with someone else, it didn’t matter. He made Dean’s insides twist up. He had the same feeling now, hunched over in his truck. He felt physically sick just thinking about the years so far without Cas, and wondered if he’d make it through another ten without the blue-eyed boy.

\--

When Dean finally pulled into the front driveway at Bobby’s, the first thing he saw was Sam sitting on the porch. He sat in a chair brought out from the kitchen, a book open on his lap. Sam sat tall, eyeing Dean’s truck as it pulled up the drive.

Dean got out of the car slowly, trying to find something to say to his younger brother. Thankfully, Sam spoke first, rising from his seat on the porch and coming down to meet Dean and the foot of the stairs.

“Hey Dean…” he began, “uh, so…I guess you know about the whole college thing and I just want to say right now that I was wrong to keep it from you. I’m really sorry, I am. Believe me. But I just can’t…I’ve got to get out of here, Dean. I want to change the world, I want to help people and learn new things and I just can’t do that here. It’s not-”

“Sam,” Dean said suddenly, interrupting his little brother and placing a reassuring hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, “I get it. Listen, I uh did some thinking last night and if you want to go out into the world and become your own person or whatever, who the hell am I to stop you? You do whatever you gotta do and me and Bobby’ll be behind you one hundred percent. Just promise me one thing?”

Sam looked into Dean’s face questioningly. “Anything, Dean. But what-”

“You better kick ass at Stanford because if I hear any differently I’ll have to come down there myself and do all the dirty work.”

Sam laughed. His eyes were bright as he said, “Thanks, Dean. Really. Thank you. For trusting me and all that. I mean, I might not even get in so you might be stuck with me forever.”

“Hey don’t even say that. You’ll get in. You’re my little brother, right? That’s gotta count for something down at that fancy school.” Dean grinned at Sam and it suddenly hit him. That he believed every word he had just said to Sam. And that because of that conviction, Sam would get to go to college, to live out his dream. Dean was the sole reason that Sam was going to college. Without Dean’s approval, it all meant nothing.

Dean felt suddenly ill. To have his younger brother place that much faith in him, to be the role model for Sam- it was too much. Of course, being the older brother had always brought looks of admiration from Sam but standing there in the drive, seeing Sam’s face more animated than it had been in months, Dean felt like a fake. He wasn’t worthy of his brother’s affection. What would Sam say about his actions last night and more recently, the morning with Meg? What would he say if he found out that Dean had fucked a woman while thinking of another man?

Dean pulled away from Sam, his face falling just as Bobby came through the front door and out on to the porch. His eyes moved from Sam to Dean silently. He walked down the steps towards the boys, eyes flicking between the two boys. “When you’re done gossiping, ladies, would you care to fill me in on what’s going on here? Where the hell’ve you been, Dean?”

Dean looked to Bobby and dropped his eyes quickly. “I just, uh I needed to think some things through so I took a drive. But it’s all, you know, worked out now. No harm done, right? And Sammy here’s got some big news.” Dean nudged his brother’s arm, giving him a reassuring nod.

“I’m going to college. Officially. Or at least applying officially. Don’t know if I’ll get in-”

“’Course you will, ya idjit. Look who you’re related to,” Bobby said, gesturing between Dean and himself. “With these reputations on your side, there’s no way they’ll turn you down.”

Sam just shook his head, looking down at his shoes, but his wide grin gave away his excitement. Dean watched him with a furrowed brow as they all made their way back into the house. It was like he had transformed into a different kid. Just a few days ago he had been grave and muted as he moved to and from school, as if stuck in a methodical, if not monotonous, cycle. Now, Sam could hardly contain himself as he moved around the kitchen, fixing himself a sandwich for lunch. He couldn’t stop smiling and chattered away with Bobby about his weekend plans and the latest news stories.

Dean felt his stomach dropping. He couldn’t take it any longer and stumbled up the stairs to his room. He felt like shit. Sam was looking for someone to look up to. Sure, he had Bobby but Dean was closer to his own age and despite what they wanted to believe, the two brothers were very similar. But this wasn’t fair to Sam. Sam deserved someone better. Dean kicked off his shoes and flung himself down on his bed. He let out a heavy sigh and tried to relax. He felt as if his face was stuck in a pained expression and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the self-loathing thoughts out of mind.

Not really thinking straight, Dean reached down into his pocket and drew out his wallet. He moved slowly, giving himself plenty of time to back down, to change his mind. But his hands moved independently of his racing thoughts. They gently pulled the torn half of the photograph out of the wallet and brought it up to Dean’s chest. He held it there for a moment, not daring to look at the picture. Slowly, Dean realized that his hand was at his belt buckle. He shook his head slightly, not wanting to disturb his few moments of peace. But the more he lay there, the stronger his desire became and he finally gave in a slipped the belt through its loops and tossed it onto the floor. Holding Cas’ picture to his chest with his left hand, Dean used his right to slowly undo the button on his pants. His fingers moved to the zipper, pausing when he remembered Meg mirroring the movement last night. Shaking her out of his head, Dean tugged at the zipper, working it down to reveal his erection, neatly outlined by the material of his underwear.

Dean pushed his head back into the pillow, closing his eyes lightly as he pushed the waistband of his underwear down. He let his mind fill with images of Cas, most of them images that his subconscious had created. Dean strained to remember what Cas had smelled like all those years before and only when he felt his head about to explode in a messy collage of Cas, only then did he open his eyes to see the picture that he clutched so dearly in his hand.

The honest, open face of Cas stared back at him and Dean couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh as his eyes traced over the photograph. He drank in the image of Cas, all the while letting his fingers trail along the throbbing skin at his crotch. Dean couldn’t believe he was doing this but there was no way in hell he was going to stop. He had been so close to Cas’ memory the night before with Meg and he needed this _now_.

Dean put his hand around himself, surprised at the heat that had already begun to build up in his fist. He though of his last farewell with Cas and began moving his hand slowly, trying to replay their parting kiss in his mind. As his hand began moving faster, the scene in his mind transformed. They were older now and Cas was wearing the same swimming trunks that he had on in the photograph. Dean’s hips jumped up uncontrollably and he moaned slightly as he tried to keep it together. He needed this to last forever.

In his vision, Cas swam before him in the hazy light of dusk. Dean ran towards him and they collided heavily against each other. Dean’s naked dick brushed against the rough material of Cas’ swim trunks and back on the bed, Dean arched his back and moved deliberately against his hand. He pictured Cas above him, Cas moving up and down his body, Cas coming down and _into_ Dean and could hardly contain himself.

He bit his lip and thrust up, obedient to the burning tightness in his lower stomach and the thrill of his pounding heartbeat. His rhythm was erotic as he repeated the motion over and over again, fucking his hand, all the while filling his head with thoughts of Cas.

He came, his muscles taut as he gripped the photograph in one hand, his throbbing dick in the other. It took everything Dean had to keep his voice quiet as he came in hot spurts. His moans were low and throaty and full of desire. He moved his hand purposefully along his length, coaxing it to give him everything. His eyes were shut tight and his eyebrows creased in pleasure and pain as he rode out the orgasm.

By the time his hips had settled back down to the cool sheets on the bed, Dean’s hand and stomach were covered in warm cum. He lay still for a moment, eyes closed, not wanting this feeling to ever end. After a moment, he opened his eyes slowly to see the face of Cas staring back at him. Shocked, Dean’s eyes flew open, heart racing before he realized that he was only looking at the photograph.

Dean pushed himself off of the bed and laid the picture of Cas on his dresser. He pushed off his pants and pulled off his shirt as he walked into his bathroom. He closed the door and turned on the shower to clean himself off. As he meditated in the steaming water on the past few days, he realized that using Cas’ picture to relieve himself had only worked momentarily. He had tricked himself into thinking that he was desired by someone. In that small moment, he had deceived himself into thinking that someone wanted him.

He felt hot tears prick the backs of his eyes. _“Fucking ridiculous,”_ he thought to himself. _“I haven’t cried in forever. Ten years at least.”_ He turned his face towards the showerhead and let the hot water run down his face, trying to shake himself back into sense.

He had tried. He had tried so fucking hard to make everyone happy.

Now, in the aftermath, Dean felt more alone than he ever had before. He had to use a picture and his own thoughts of the man he loved because he had been abandoned by the real thing. Meg, a fucking one-night thing, didn’t even want him to stick around for morning sex or even _breakfast_.  There was no one to whom he could turn. Sam was leaving, Bobby wouldn’t understand. Dean was alone.

And standing there in the scalding water of the shower, Dean cried.


	10. Chapter 10

March 1953--Meddleton, Idaho

It had been two weeks since everything had fallen apart. Two weeks since Dean had stopped fighting against Sam’s desire to go to college, two weeks since he had hooked up with Meg, two weeks since he had shoved the picture of Cas deep into his dresser drawer behind his socks so he wouldn’t have to look at it.

Sam’s mood had improved dramatically and Dean was happy for him. He only ever wanted the best for Sam and now that his little brother was on the path of his dreams, Dean wasn’t really sure what to do with himself. He worked on the Kaiser, he talked halfhearted politics with Bobby, he joked around with Sam. But he felt stuck. He wasn’t going anywhere, didn’t have a real purpose in life.

A year ago, Dean would have told anyone that he lived the best life, surrounded by family and broken cars. Hell, just a few months ago he had been content to just work in the garage all day, fix dinner, and then go to sleep early to anticipate his predawn wake up call to just do the whole thing all over again.

But now…he was tired. He was tired of the same old thing over and over. He was tired of feeling small and useless. He was tired of feeling alone.

He worked on the Kaiser because he didn’t have anything else to do. He worked quietly and efficiently, well aware of Bobby’s deadline that was closing in. If he didn’t even get to keep his baby after all of the shit he had gone through the past few weeks, he was afraid of what he would do to himself. And so he built a new body and attached it to the old hood, careful to retain the car’s original shape.

Bobby, of course, had realized that something was wrong with Dean but didn’t know how to approach the topic so he didn’t. He went over to Dean’s side of the garage from time to time to check on his progress or offer a few words of advice, watching with concerned eyes. It was mostly small talk but Dean appreciated Bobby’s effort.

Every night Dean lay in his bed trying to relax so that he could sleep. It took his whole concentration to keep his mind from racing around. One night, no matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn’t stay still and he sat up, exasperated. He pushed himself out of bed and walked over to the window, looking up towards the waning moon. Leaning his forehead against the cool glass, the all too familiar wave of overwhelming responsibility crashed down on Dean. Sighing, he went to the bathroom and then slowly made his way back to bed.

Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much the rest of the night and woke unnecessarily early. It was a Wednesday morning; Sam would be going to school and Bobby would take his weekly trip into town to pick up anything they needed. Dean groaned in his bed when he realized that he truly would be alone today. Not able to find the energy to actually get out of bed, he waited until Bobby pounded down the door and burst into the room yelling for Dean to get his lazy ass out of bed and out to the garage.

“That damn car ain’t gonna magically fix itself, ya idjit!” he would always say.

Dean got out of bed to see Bobby off; Sam had caught the bus hours earlier. Watching Bobby’s truck bounce down the dusty road, Dean found himself chewing at his bottom lip, something he used to do as a child. He took a breath and immediately regretted it when the dirt and dust of the road found its way into his lungs. Cursing between coughs, he shook his head and made his way inside.

He dressed quickly, pulling on a clean white t-shirt and a pair of work pants. Standing in front of the dresser, Dean fumbled around in the top drawer for a pair of clean semi-matching socks. He sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed the photo of Cas that he had stashed away. A pair of socks in one hand and the photo in the other, Dean walked a few steps over to the window and let the natural light spill over the sharp lines of Cas’ jaw and the silhouetted muscles of his abdomen. Dean sighed and held the photo up at eye level. The bright backlight from the sun overpowered the simple ink of the photo, making it difficult to make out details of the picture.

It was then that Dean noticed it- in the bottom right hand corner of the picture, a set of scribbles shining through the thick photo paper with the help of the intense sunlight that shone through the window.

Turning away from the bright light, Dean flipped the photo over and, giving his eyes a moment to adjust, searched the back of the photo. Sure enough, though Dean had somehow never noticed it before, there was something written on the photo; a collection of numbers and letters.

Dean’s heart started racing as he recognized the familiar layout of a phone number scrawled out in the corner. His head swam as he wondered how he had never seen the writing before. But now that he had seen it, he couldn’t imagine the photo without it; it demanded Dean’s attention and he couldn’t look away, afraid that the writing would disappear if he shifted his gaze.

He stood in the middle of his room, frozen in conflict. Should he try to call? He would have to explain it all- how he had gotten the number, Meg, Sam…

But if didn’t call he would have to live with that guilt, that feeling of never knowing what would’ve happened. The number was pretty old; maybe Cas had moved or the line had been discontinued. Maybe he was worried about nothing.

Blinking a few times to confirm that the number wasn’t a desperate creation of his subconscious, Dean took the photo with him through the empty house until he ended up in front of the phone, a beer bottle clutched in his free hand.

Dean opened the bottle and knocked it back, downing half of it in one go. He felt the drink move through his body, slowing his heart and calming his nerved. Emboldened, Dean finished off the beer quickly and grabbed the phone before he could change his mind.

He listened for a minute to make sure none of Bobby’s distant neighbors were on the party line before calling up the local operator. He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding when he heard a voice on the other end say, “Operator. What’s the exchange and number?”

Dean read out the letters on the photo followed by the numbers. There was a slight pause and then Dean heard the operator say “Connecting…”

He let out a large puff of air nervously. This was it. He wanted another beer, craved the feel of the cool bottle in his sweaty palms, but didn’t dare leave the phone for a second. Instead he twisted the phone cord anxiously around his fingers, waiting. He pressed the receiver close to his ear, listening intently to the ominous tone of the ring as the long distance call connected.

His mind had almost completely settled when the ringing stopped and there was a rustle at the other end of the line. Dean started, eyes wide, pacing as far as the phone cord would let him.

And then suddenly there was a voice at the other end, a deep gravely voice that sent chills up and down Dean’s spine with only a simple, “Hello.”

“Hey.” Dean breathed out, his response automatic and alarmingly fast. He backtracked, trying to find the right thing to say.

“Uh, hi?” the voice said, confused.

“Is you the-that is, uh you’re- oh god, I mean-” Dean took a deep breath, “I need to speak with a Castiel Novak.” Dean tried again, the man’s full name falling effortlessly over his lips and out into the air.

“Yeah, speaking. Who’s calling?”

Another deep breath.

“I’m, I uh, it’s Dean Winchester.”

There was a long and suspenseful silence following Dean’s words and he squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for being so stupid. He pounded a fist against his forehead, willing the phone call to end, for the connection to be lost, sparing them both from any more embarrassment. Sparing Dean.

After a good minute of silent pacing, Dean opened his mouth, meaning to just make an apology and hang up, but before he could say anything he heard Cas’ voice, low and deathly quiet.

“Dean…Winchester? Dean Fucking Winchester? Dean ten-years-ago Winchester? Dean I’ve-forgotten-how-to-answer-a-goddamned-letter Winchester? Dean love-em-and-leave-em Winchester? Is this some kind of sick _joke_? Do you people get off on this sort of shit? Jesus Christ…”

“Cas, please, wait. I can explain-”

“Please do.”

Dean shook his head, forgetting that Cas couldn’t see him do so. “I know this, whatever ‘this’ is, is my fault. I fucked up, okay? I should’ve answered your letters, I should’ve tried harder, I should’ve been better…” Dean trailed off, not trusting himself to speak. He felt the hot flush of tears coming on and wiped at his eyes. “But I’m telling you now: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for anything I ever did to you and I’m sorry that we ever met. You’ll never hear from me again, you’ll never have to see my name anywhere else I promise. I’m so so sorry.”

Dean paused at the end of his little speech, telling himself to hang up before Cas could say anything else. But something held him in place with the receiver clutched desperately to his ear. After a few seconds he heard Cas on the other end mumbling.

“How’d you get this number?”

Dean nodded, defeated. He tried to think of a better story but couldn’t come up with anything on the spot.

“I uh, got it from a friend of yours…” he said, hoping that would be enough.

“A friend?” Cas said, “In Idaho? Who…oh. Oh god, Dean no-“

Cas’ voice faded suddenly; he had apparently pulled the receiver away from his mouth but it did little to dampen the sound of cursing from his end of the line. Dean waited anxiously until Cas picked up the receiver again and said, “Meg?? You go this number from Meg Masters? Holy shit, Dean. How do you even know her? Don’t tell me you guys are like neighbors or something-”

“She has a sort of bar, bed and breakfast a few miles down the road but I didn’t know it was there until a few weeks ago.” Dean didn’t know why he was defending himself. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong. “Listen, just forget about it,” he said earnestly. "It was only one night.”

Met with an uncomfortable silence, it took Dean a moment to realize his mistake.

“Shit,” he whispered, just as he heard Cas’ voice jump to a yell, causing a slight buzz in the receiver.

“One _night_?” Cas asked incredulously.

Dean kicked the wall and let his head fall back heavily until he was staring at the kitchen ceiling.

“What do you think you’re doing Dean? Jesus Christ…did you fuck her?”

Cas took Dean’s pained silence as a yes and let out a short laugh.

“Oh this is _rich_. Here you are after ten years, telling me that you fucked my ex-girlfriend and somehow got my phone number out of it and decided to just ring me up one day, to say _sorry_ , of all things, while all these years you’ve still had my heart on a leash like a fucking dog. What kind of game are you playing, Dean Winchester?”

Dean’s head swam and he stood in stunned silence at Cas’ confession. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking for something, anything to say that would keep Cas talking and make him realize how much Dean missed him. To describe the lonely nights where his thoughts flew like a mad bird and only settled when he thought of Cas. To make him feel the longing in his stomach when he saw those stupid movies with all their declarations of love and kissing and happy endings. To sit him out in the car yard under the stars and feel the insignificance of it all: this life, this bitterness, this regret. The stars, the connection between two lonely boys- these were the important things. Dean swallowed as he planned out what he would say next, praying that Cas still felt the connection too.

“Cas can I ask you a question? Another one,” he said quickly, anticipating Cas’ smart-ass retort.

“Sure Dean, of course,” Cas said with a sigh.

“Do you still do the star thing?” Dean waited with baited breath as he heard Cas laughing, a low soft laugh that twisted Dean’s stomach into knots. Had he said the wrong thing? Did he misinterpret what Cas had said?

“The star thing, Jesus Christ, Dean. Yes, of course I do. Every night. And if I don’t I’m afraid that the world will forget about what we once had and push us so mercilessly far apart that we can never reclaim it. The stars let me think that maybe, just maybe…part of me can travel through the sky and be with you again.” Cas’ voice broke unexpectedly and he stopped short, letting the chaos in Dean’s mind grow to an overwhelming fortissimo. He replayed Cas’ last words over and over, reveling in their sincerity.

“Dean. Listen. It’s been way too long for it to happen like this. Everything I said or did on that Navy base was real for me, I hope for you too, and it was so long ago. But don’t you get it Dean? _It was so long ago_. Now’s our chance to start over. This isn’t a one-way street, you know. I’ve been a dick, too. I know that…But that means I also get a chance to make it up to you.”

Cas’s voice was soothing and it moved up and down as he talked more freely. Dean could hardly keep from shouting out when he fully grasped what Cas was saying. A second chance. A new beginning.

“I need to see you,” Dean said, abruptly.

“Yes,” was all that Cas said.

“How…? What do you want me to do, Cas? I’m still over here in Idaho and you’re…well you’re wherever the hell you are.”

“California,” Cas clarified.

Dean’s faced scrunched up in disappointment. California was states away. Too far for just a weekend trip and Bobby would get suspicious if he was gone longer than that. So he needed a different plan. And then it came, all too clear in his mind how he could get to California and stay there almost as long as he needed to.

“Cas, hey, listen. Sam’s going to college. Stanford. Well applying at least but there’s no way they can turn him down; the kid’s a genius. We can make this work. I’ll drive Sam down and then I can come meet you somewhere.”

Dean heard Cas murmuring in agreement on the other end of the end and felt his stomach lift to his mouth in anticipation.

“Cas, buddy, work with me here. What do you say?”

“You got a piece of paper and a pen handy? I’ll give you my address and you drop me a letter when you’re about on your way. I can also give you the address of a pretty nice bed and breakfast a few miles south of Stanford if you’re looking for a place to stay…”

Dean raised a fist above his head, overjoyed and actually surprised at Cas’ willingness to go along with his plan when just minutes ago he had been cursing Dean’s name and spoke quickly into the receiver, asking Cas to wait while he retrieved a scrap of paper and a dull pencil. He scribbled down the addresses that Cas as gave them to him and held the list up, admiring the slanted writing as if it were a tablet from the angels themselves.

“Dean?” he heard Cas say.

“Yeah, hey Cas I’m here. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just making sure this is real. Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you. And Dean? Thanks for calling. Really. I know I was pissed, I still am actually, but this is helping.”

Dean smiled at Cas’ words and said, “We’ll be in touch. I promise. Making up for lost time, right? See you soon, Cas.”

\--

Dean was in a suspiciously good mood when Bobby drove up. He whistled around the garage and smiled when he caught Bobby staring at him in concern.

When Sam got home he asked about his schoolwork and genuinely seemed to be interested in what Sam had to say. When Dean’s back was turned, Sam made a face at Bobby who shrugged in response. Dean fixed dinner and set out silverware on the dining room table, insisting on preparing Sam and Bobby’s plates for them so that they could sit at the table and relax.

“Here’s to family,” Dean said when they were all seated, a plate of steaming corn, a cut of steak and hot mashed potatoes in front of each of them. He nodded his head and began shuffling the warm food in his mouth. Looking up, he noticed both Bobby and Sam staring at him with strange looks. “I didn’t slave over this meal to have you two just sit there letting it cold. Eat up while it’s still hot.”

His ‘strange’ behavior continued after dinner, when he offered to clean their plates and take care of the messy kitchen before Bobby could even get up from the table. While Dean scrubbed the pots and reorganized the kitchen, Bobby pulled Sam out into the hallway and looked him in the eye.

“Alright so Dean’s being a little weird tonight but we’re gonna play it safe, okay? This is one gift horse I refuse to look in the mouth. Got it?”

“Yeah, Bobby sure. I just wish I knew what happened today that got him all excited, you know?”

“I know but you know how he gets if you try and get too personal. So lay off on the twenty questions routine with this one, okay? Trust me.”

Sam nodded and moved down the hall, scooping up his school books and taking them up to his room.

Bobby shook his head, straightened up, and walked back into the kitchen only to be greeted with a peculiar scene. Dean was hunched over an old cookbook that someone had given to Bobby as a housewarming gift. Bobby had barely ever opened but Dean had it spread open wide on the counter, his finger tracing down the recipes in the table of contents.

“Dean…I almost hate to ask but what in the name of Sam Hill are you doing?”

Dean face lit up when he saw Bobby behind him.

“Bobby! Hey, do you know if we have enough ingredients to bake a pie?”


	11. Chapter 11

There was a sharp knock on Dean’s door the next morning and blearily, Dean opened his eyes pale yellow sunlight filtering softly through the window. Mumbling curses, Dean shuffled across the room and opened the door to find Bobby standing there, fist poised to bang on the door. He dropped his arm when Dean opened the door and pushed past him into the room.

“Time to get dressed, princess. I let you sleep in a couple hours but now it’s time to get going. You’re on a deadline, remember?” Bobby threw open Dean’s window, allowing the cool breeze to drift into the room. “Ahh, fresh air. Nothing beats it. Be downstairs in five minutes if you want your breakfast hot.”

Dean dressed quickly and skipped down the stairs, pulling on his jacket. He walked into the kitchen and gratefully took a plate of scrambled eggs and a hot biscuit from Bobby. Having located a knife and the jam, Dean sat at the kitchen table and began shoving food in his mouth, forever grateful for its warmth.

Bobby sat down across from him, a cup of black coffee in his hands. “Guess who I ran into in town yesterday,” he said to Dean, taking a sip of coffee. Dean, his mouth full of jam and biscuit, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, willing Bobby to go on.

“Donald Attar. Old friend of your father’s. Remember him?”

Dean tilted his head, trying to place the name. He swallowed and then said, “From the base on Terminal Island? No way. What’s _he_ doing here?”

“Lives close by from what I could get out him. Always was a slippery fellow and that hasn’t changed one bit. It was hard to get him to talk about himself, you know? Did quite a lot of talking about John, though. I had to tell him, had to explain about Pearl Harbor. Poor guy looked really confused when I told him John had died more than ten years. Told me I was ‘a lying son of a bitch’, actually. That’s the shock talking, I suppose.”

“He always gave me the creeps as a kid,” Dean said. “And his kids- Jesus. That little girl Lucie used to pick on Sam; beat him up once or twice but I couldn’t do anything about it because of her dick of an older brother, Michael. If saw him now though-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll kick his ass, I get it. That said…I invited them all over to take a look at our inventory some time…” Bobby ducked his head and took a measured sip of coffee as he watched Dean’s face change from disbelief to horror to anger.

“You what?? Bobby what the hell?”

“We have quite a few used cars, they’re looking to buy a used car. It’s common sense, Dean.”

“Oh this is just great.” Dean rose from his seat and carried his empty plate over to the sink, turning the water on and scrubbing the plate violently. “Common sense. Okay, fine. But I sure as hell won’t be here when they come for your little tea party. Neither will Sam.”

“Fine by me, Dean. Just though you’d wanna know.” Bobby stood slowly, watching Dean at the sink. “You’re gonna have to get over this ‘I’m not happy so no one is” attitude. It’s unprofessional. What are you going to do if you get someone who pisses you off trying to get their car fixed? You can’t send them away just because you don’t like them. You work with them, hell, you work _for_ them until they’re satisfied. Otherwise this life is gonna be a whole lot harder once I’m gone.”

Dean pursed his lips, his jaw sliding back in forth as he turned off the water and faced Bobby, hands covered in soap. “Don’t give me that morbid shit, Bobby. You’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“But you’ve got to understand my point, Dean. You do realize that one day this is going to be your life? So either put aside your pride and commit to the job or…or find something else to do with your life.”

“Okay. Geez…” Dean said quietly, refusing to meet Bobby’s eyes.

“Okay, what?” Bobby asked, his arms spreading questioningly.

“I don’t know, Bobby, just ‘okay’! What do you want me to say?”

“Something to convince me that you’re talking me and this business seriously! This is _your_ future Dean, not mine, not Sam’s. Yours. So either step up to the plate or take a seat on the bench for a while.”

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, hands gripping the edge of the sink, arms locked and stiff. He pushed back and stood straight, opening his eyes as he did so.

“I’m not fit for this job, okay? There, I said it. You happy now? You’re right, Bobby. Cars, I get. I _like_ working with cars. People, though…well I guess you could say my ‘people skills’ are ‘rusty’,” Dean admitted, making air quotes with his fingers. “But what else can I do? I’ve got nothing else, _nothing else_ going for me. I fix cars. I screw up everything else…” Dean stopped talking, realizing that his voice was unnaturally harsh in Bobby’s silence.

“Listen here, boy, and listen good,” Bobby said slowly. “The road so far…hasn’t been easy for you and I know that. But that’s no reason to for you to just give up and mope around here like it’s the end of the world or something. If you’re itchin’ to get away, to try something different, there’s nobody here stopping you but yourself. And if you get out there and find something better, go for it,” Bobby shrugged. “You’ll always be welcome back here, though, son. That’s one thing that’ll never change.”

Throat tight and heart strangely light, Dean walked the few feet across the kitchen and threw his arms around Bobby, not trusting himself to speak. Bobby nodded and hugged Dean like a father to his son, patting his back a few times before letting go.

“You’re gonna be alright, kid.” He gave Dean a grin and clapped him on the back again. “Now you’d better get your ass in that garage. At this rate you’ve only got a few months left with your precious Kaiser. Get to it, boy!”

\--

July 1953

Dean had been awake for hours working on the Kaiser’s outer body when the Attars showed up in the front driveway. He probably wouldn’t have even noticed their arrival if it weren’t for Sam running up the path from the house with a pained look on his face, coming to a stop next to Dean who was sitting in the dirt comparing his paint job to that of the original manufacturers of the car.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself.

“Dean. They’re here. Bobby’s just gone out to greet them. God, this is a royal nightmare. Who’d have ever thought-”

“Cool it, Sam. Yeah, these cats are bad news but nothing we can’t handle. It’s just business, right? Here, help me up why don’t you,” Dean took Sam’s outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“Car looks good,” Sam said.

Dean cut him a glare, expecting it to be some sort of jab but Sam’s face was placid as he looked over the scraps and partly built car that lay before them. Sam sighed, “One day I think I’d like to build a car.”

Dean shook his head. “Not too late, you know,” he tried.

“Dean. Stanford, remember?” Sam replied, laughing.

He had gotten his acceptance letter a few weeks before and Dean considered it a heaven sent miracle that the kid was able to stop talking about it long enough to get any sleep. They were all excited, of course, but Sam couldn’t stop smiling for the whole day after opening the letter and reading its contents. Dean was also excited for what the letter brought but for slightly different reasons.

He’d sent out a letter postmarked for California the night after Sam opened his letter, explaining the situation to Cas and again asking hesitantly if he really wanted to meet up somewhere. Dean had almost convinced himself that the phone call with Cas had been a dream, a sorry hallucination by his lust-ridden mind. But then a letter came in reply and Dean’s heart was full of hope once more. If only September would come faster…

“Hey there, Sam! My goodness how you’ve grown!”

At the sound of a sweet soprano voice, Dean was jerked back to the present and felt Sam stiffen next to him.

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. You’re practically an Ivy Leaguer now, yeah? You don’t have to bother to her kind of scum anymore. Just for a few hours today. Strictly business.”

Together the two boys turned to face Lucie Attar, now a strong young woman with blonde styled hair and tan legs that disappeared into her blue and white checked skirt that bounced as she walked. She wore a light blue sweater despite the summer heat with a red blouse underneath. Behind her walked Bobby and two men, one older severe looking man who Dean guessed was Donald and a younger but just as austere man, Michael, Lucie’s older brother.

“My oh my, it’s just been too long, don’t you think boys?” She spoke with a slight lilt in her voice and here words were laced with poison behind her innocent façade. Dean grimaced and walked forward, wiping his dirty on a rag before offering to shake her hand. Strictly business.

She took his hand gingerly and her lips curled into a smile as they shook hands.

“I can’t tell you how delighted I am to see more of the Winchester family, and so soon, too. Wouldn’t you agree, Michael?” she turned to her older brother as he approached. Sharing his sister’s blonde hair and tan skin, Michael shook Dean’s hand roughly.

“Yeah, because I haven’t had enough of the Winchesters lately,” he mumbled. Dean shot a glance towards Bobby and then Sam, forehead wrinkled and lips parting in confusion as he tried to make sense of Michael’s words. He shifted his weight back and took in the family as a whole, sensing something off about the three.

He searched their faces and neatly pressed clothes but couldn’t find anything that jumped out at him as odd. As they began to move through the car yard to the side with donated or refurbished used cars, Dean pulled Sam back and whispered, “Something’s going on, Sam. I don’t trust these people.”

“Yeah, Dean, these would be the same people who used to use us as punching bags. Gee, I wonder why you don’t trust them. Great deductions there, Sherlock.”

“No, Sam, I mean it. There’s something off about them.”

Sam just shook his head and shrugged, moving out of Dean’s grip and towards where Lucie had stopped in front of a red Ford station wagon with wood paneling. It was a nice ride for a big family but expensive, even for a used car. Dean let out a frustrated sigh and followed after Sam.

They looked at every car in the lot before Lucie announced that she was feeling ill from the heat. As she made her way back towards the house, Bobby sent Sam down after her to make sure she made it into the air conditioned house and got an iced drink while Donald and Bobby talked business. Dean hated to see his brother sent out to face Goliath alone but Bobby insisted that he stay and work out a deal with Mr. Attar.

Sam hurried after Lucie, cursing Bobby under his breath all the way until he caught up with her long strides as they neared the house. He sprung up the steps and opened the screen door for her, avoiding her blue eyes. “Can I get something for you to drink? Maybe some ice water?”

“How bout a beer?” she called from the hallway and Sam followed her into the kitchen. She strode over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles, offering one to Sam. He took it warily and watched her pry the cap off with the bottle opener that Dean had bolted to the side of the fridge. She took a gulp of the cool liquid and gave a satisfied sigh.

“That’s much better, don’t you think?”

Sam stayed quiet, his bottle still unopened in his sweaty palm.

“Come on now Sam it’s just me. Aren’t you glad to see me? You can tell me the truth. We’re like soul mates, remember?” she wiggled her eyebrows at him and took another sip of her beer. “Don’t be such a wet rag, Sam. I know you’ve been dreaming of me and wishing you could see me one last time." She said dramatically, a twisted smile playing across her face. "Well, here I am.”

She set her almost empty beer bottle down on the counter and moved sensuously across the kitchen until she was no more than two inches from Sam. Her hands hovered over his chest. “What’s your tale, nightingale? How come you’re not happy to see me? You afraid I’ve got cooties or something?” She leaned in closer and Sam felt her warm breath on his face just before her lips met his.

He stumbled backwards at her touch and she laughed. “Sorry, Daddy-O. I’m drowning, can’t make sense of you. Guess that was the wrong way to go. Or maybe you go a different way…?” she left the question open and watched his face as he took in her words. “No reason to be a closet case about it Sam I’m sure there are lots of nice boys who like it up the-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he spat out.

Lucie’s hand fluttered over her heart mockingly. “He said shut up to me,” she marveled. “Guess I hit a nerve or somethin-”

Sam flung himself across the room and brought Lucie’s face to his. He kissed her hard and she responded to his touch, rocking her body against him and meeting his ferocity. Guilt poured through his veins as he backed her against the wall and bit at her lips. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and he winced as he felt her fingernails scraping along the back of his neck. Tongues meeting and mouths working against one another, their bodies slammed roughly together and Sam heard the plates in the cabinets shake as Lucie pushed him back against the fridge. It was like all of the rage and tension between them was being let loose and Sam couldn’t decide if he want to punch the girl or take her down to his bedroom.

He didn’t have to decide, though, because as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Lucie pulled at Sam’s bottom lip with her teeth and then planted her hands firmly on Sam’s chest and pushed herself away. She scooped up her beer bottle from the counter and drank the last few drops before waltzing out of the room. Stunned, Sam watched from the kitchen window as she skipped down the path to meet up with her father and brother.

“What the _hell_ just happened,” he whispered to himself. Feeling lightheaded, he took his unopened beer from the kitchen table and opened it, downing half of it in one go.

\--

Dean mostly listened while Bobby talked with Donald, recognizing the speech that Bobby gave to all their customers, buyers, sellers, or people looking for a mechanic, about liability and responsibility. He tried to imagine himself in ten, twenty years giving the same speech and couldn’t do it. Something about the straight repetition of every interaction caused Dean’s mind to shut down and drift off into his own thoughts. As always, he thought of Cas. He wondered what the man was doing right now, wondered if he had already eaten breakfast or had plans for lunch. Imaging Cas in domestic situations always made Dean’s stomach feel fluffy and had been the cause of many soiled pairs of underwear.

“Can I go take a look at what you’ve got going on down there?” Michael asked abruptly, pointing towards the garage where Kaiser was laid out under the summer sun. Bobby looked where he was pointing and said, “That’s Dean’s little project. Why don’t you show her off, Dean? Take Michael down for a look.”

“Yeah uh sure,” Dean mumbled. “Right this way.”

Dean didn’t stop to make sure the other man was following him but instead starting weaving through the cars until he made it to the garage. He looked up from the pieces laying on the ground to the body of the car that was propped up on cinder blocks, taking in his work.

“Here she is.”

“Nice,” Michael offered in response. “How much?”

“Sorry?”

“How much are you taking for her?”

“She’s uh,” Dean smiled but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s not for sale.”

“Shame.”

Michael walked around Dean’s workspace, taking in every aspect. “I’ve got something you might want for her, though. A sort of trade.”

Dean studied the young man’s face. He seemed serious, though Dean could only think of a few things in the world that were more important to him than his baby. What could this troublemaker have that Dean would want?

“You’re slow so I’ll give you little hint. It’s about your father, the _great_ John Winchester.” He said the words mockingly.

“In case you didn’t know, my father died over ten years ago and any greatness he had died with him,” Dean said, spitting out the words like they were poison.

Michael laughed at that, a hearty laugh that sent chills down Dean’s spine despite the heat of the summer day.

“I’m telling you, you might want to listen to what I’m saying.”

“Get bent.”

“Have it your way. But if your old man drove up and saw you now…I don’t know if he’d be proud. I just don’t know.”

It took everything Dean had to stop himself from punching the other man’s tanned face but he kept his fists down by his sides and watched Michael turn and walk back towards his father. After a few steps, though, he turned and regarded Dean with pure malice shining in his eyes.

“I know what your slut mother would say, though. That bitch deserved what she got-”

Before he reached the end of his sentence, Dean had tackled Michael to the ground and pinned him down with his left forearm, bringing his right fist down on Michael’s face again and again until he saw red. Dean could hear shouting but it was as if he was underwater and the sound couldn’t reach him; he was in too deep. He punched and pummeled until a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso and yanked him off Michael who was now nursing a broken nose and would probably be sporting a black eye the next morning.

It took several minutes for Dean to regain his senses and make sense of the noises around him. Bobby, his arms still blocking Dean from lunging again, was apologizing to the Attars on Dean’s behalf and swearing that things like this usually didn’t happen. Dean straightened his shirt and shoved past Bobby’s grasp to escape into the cool sanctuary of the garage. Behind him he could hear Bobby shouting his name but knew that he couldn’t leave the ‘customers’, especially now that it was going to be ten times harder to get them to buy.

He walked straight through the garage and out the other side where the grass was faded and sickly. Letting out a frustrated yell he kicked out at the brick wall of the garage and immediately regretted it as he walked towards the house, toes throbbing.

He had almost made it up the steps when Lucie pushed through the screen door and walked right into him.

“I didn’t see you there, forgive me,” she said, her voice unnaturally thick. Her hair had slipped out of its styled ponytail and her cheeks were flushed. He eyed her warily. Under his gaze she straightened her blouse and pushed her hair out of her face. She smiled in his uneasiness and took the opportunity to sidle up next to him.

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, you and your psycho brother back there, but if I find out I swear-”

“ _Dean_.” Lucie said forcefully, regaining some of her composure and placing her hands on Dean’s chest. “You’ve got to learn to trust. You have no enemies here. There are no secret plans.” Her lips moved dangerously close to his ear as she leaned in close to whisper, “Want me to prove it? I’ll show you things you’ve never seen before. Just say the word. No one has to know. I have no secrets to tell you but God knows I could scream out your name all night. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Sam certainly seemed enthusiastic about my offer. Almost ripped my clothes off in the kitchen. That’s a bit rude, don’t you think, Daddy-O?”

Dean’s lip curled as he smelt the beer on her breath and he took her slender arms in his strong hands and forced her away from him. “You repel me,” he growled, “Lay one hand on me or my brother again and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do. Screaming my name is pretty hard from behind bars.”

Lucie eyed Dean’s face and eventually moved silently down the steps to meet her father and brother who had just appeared over the hill. Dean turned and walked quickly into the house, shaking Lucie's scent off of him as he went.

\--

The Attars, not surprisingly, left empty handed with Donald claiming that he needed time to think over Bobby’s offers. As she was walking out the door, Lucie stopped and placed a wet kiss on Sam’s cheek. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he started forward but she was already skipping down the steps and hopping gracefully into the car.

As the car kicked up dirt and gravel on its way down the road, Dean gave Sam’s arm a whack.

“Geez, Dean! What was that for?”

"I should be asking you the same question! What the hell was that, a farewell kiss? Spare me the horny details but whatever you’ve gotten yourself into, you better haul ass out of it before it’s too late. I don’t want that bitch coming over for Christmas dinner and slicing up my apple pie.”

“It’s not what you think, Dean. She just- we were…well you saw her, Dean, she’s certifiably insane! Who knows what she’s thinking?”

Dean just shook his head and grimaced. “I don’t like it, Sam. Those kids always gave me the creeps and apparently time doesn’t exactly heal all wounds.”

They walked through the front hall together, finding Bobby standing in the middle of the kitchen. Sam knew from one look that something terrible had happened. Bobby’s face was white and he stared unseeing at the floor. Sam nudged Dean’s arm and sat Bobby down in one of the kitchen chairs.

Straightening up Sam asked, “What is it, Bobby? What happened?”

Bobby’s mouth opened and then closed and the two brothers watched in anticipation as her licked his lips and tried again.

“It seems that…well Donald’s just told me that your father…your father’s still alive.”


	12. Chapter 12

“What the hell is that supposed to even mean, Bobby?” Dean asked for what felt like the hundredth time. “Why would he say something like that?”

Bobby sighed. “I told you everything he told me: ‘John’s alive. He’s close. He wants to visit.’ I mean, you saw the letter. It’s his handwriting, it’s written in his voice, it’s the perfect recreation of your father. And I don’t see how anyone could fake something like that so _well_. I’m not saying Donald’s right but…hell I just don’t know, Dean.” He dragged a hand across his forehead and scratched at his beard, clueless and frustrated. “Read the letter again, Sam,” Bobby said after a while.

Sam glanced up from the piece of paper that sat in front of him. His eyes flicked to Dean’s face and he took a deep breath and held it, waiting for someone to tell him to stop. When both Bobby and Dean remained quiet, Sam’s eyes fell back down to the letter before him and he began to read:

       To my boys,

       This isn’t a hoax. I am John Eric Winchester. My father was Henry Winchester, and I was born in Normal, Illinois. I married the love of my life, Mary Campbell. I joined the Navy after her death and raised you kids on the base. None of this is enough to convince you of the truth but I need you to do something for me. Believe me. Trust me. I am alive and I am real. Put what you think you know in the gutter. You gotta understand something. After your mother passed, all I saw was evil. Everywhere. I thought joining up with the Navy would give me a purpose, a way to fight against that evil. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted my boys prepared for when the evil came. I wouldn’t have left you that day on Pearl Harbor if I didn’t think you were ready. And it all worked out in the end. You boys got out. You made it to Idaho and Bobby took you in and I am forever in his debt. I can’t tell you why I left right now. I know you don’t understand why, but I need you to trust me on this one. I do want to see you, you’re my boys after all. If everything goes according to plan, you received this letter from Donald today. I will be in Idaho three days after you get this. If you’re willing to come and talk, I’ll be at the Roadhouse Inn, which as I recall is just down the road from Bobby’s place. Five o’clock. Please, boys. It’s been too long. Trust me, please, and we can be a family together. We’re stronger that way. Say hello to Bobby for me. I hope we all meet up soon. Don’t disappoint me.

       John

They sat in silence after Sam finished reading. Sam gently pushed the paper away from him and leaned back in his chair. Bobby stared at the letter absentmindedly, replaying the past twelve years looking for clues that would tell him if John was actually alive or not. Stumped, he bit at his bottom lip nervously. Dean uncrossed his arms from his chest and shook his head.

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know anything more than I did the last time you asked me that five minutes ago!” Bobby said in an irritated tone. “How the hell am I supposed to know?” It was all Bobby could do to keep himself from pacing back and forth the kitchen tiles.

Dean, however, threw his hands up in frustration and began walking towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, Dean?” Bobby asked pointedly. “We’ve obviously got things to talk about and you’re going to stick around until we’re done talking about them.”

Dean turned back to face Bobby and was careful to keep his face blank. “All right. So let’s talk. And them I’m out of here, kay?”

Bobby just shook his head. Sam looked between the two of them before asking, “So, what? Are we gonna meet up with this guy or what? I mean, if it’s not him, no harm, right?”

“If it’s not him, why the hell would someone go through all the trouble to swing something like this?”

“Kids love pranks, you know that, Dean.” Bobby answered simply.

“Yeah but why us? Huh? There’s something here that’s not adding up and it’s rubbing me the wrong way.”

“Well let’s just say it’s him and go from there. I mean it,” Sam continued, giving Dean a look to keep him from interrupting again, “we can drive out to this Roadhouse place and see if anyone shows and if it’s really him then that’s that. And if it’s not you can, I don’t know, bash their heads in or something. I say we go and see what happens.” Sam shrugged, the letter still in his hands.

Blowing air out of his mouth, Dean put his hands on his head and walked in a tight circle around the room. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in thought before saying, “Bobby?”

Bobby gave an exaggerated shrug and looked out the window at the late afternoon sun, weighing the options. Finally he said, “We’ll go. And if he shows, he shows. And if not…well then we’ll deal with whatever this is when it comes to us.”

\--

Bobby drove down the dusty road with Dean in the passenger’s seat and Sam squished in the middle. The sun shone down on the truck, filling the cab with glorious warmth and it wasn’t long before Dean was asleep.

When he woke, Bobby was pulling off the highway and on to a narrower dirt road. It took a minute for his eyes to focus though the sight outside was slightly familiar even through his post-sleep haze. Realizing where he was, Dean’s stomach lurched and his eyes went wide. He subconsciously slid down in the seat and let out a groan of despair. He took in the whole scene: the large cabin-looking building looming up before his eyes and the smaller lodges waiting in the back. Waiting for him to step out of the truck before they pounced.

The bar and breakfast looked different from the last time Dean had been there, but then again he hadn’t exactly been in his right mind during that whole crazy episode. His eyes ran over the buildings and the trees surrounding them and he couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of Meg’s revenge that was sure to come if he set foot outside.

Sam glanced over and saw Dean slouched down with his hand over his eyes. Curious, Sam nudged Dean and asked, “Something wrong?”

Startled by Sam’s voice, Dean sat up quickly and dragged his hand down over his face, trying to wipe away the red flush of embarrassment that he felt creeping across his cheeks.

“Bad decisions, Sammy. Don’t make ‘em.”

“I take it you’ve been here before?” Sam pressed, a grin spreading across his face.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, uh…just once before. One night…” he trailed off.

“One _night_ ,” Sam repeated, unable to hide his large smile.

“I’m telling you, Sam. Bad decisions and the fast track to hell.”

“So when you say one night you actually mean-”

“Okay I think we get it,” Dean rushed, cutting Sam off and looking over to Bobby. “What time’s it?”

“Half past four. We’re a little early but I wanna get a good look around in case something goes wrong.”

“What, like an escape plan?” Sam asked incredulously. “Bobby, do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Dean shifted uneasily in his seat, eying the scene outside. “Hey, how about I just wait in the car until we’re sure it’s him. Then we can all go back to the house and talk, you know? Somewhere a little more…hospitable.”

Bobby and Sam exchanged a glance. It was unlike Dean to be so nervous, even if they were going to meet their 10-years-dead-father. There was something that Dean wasn’t telling them and he definitely wasn’t offering up any explanations.

Bobby pulled into the grassy parking area and shut the car off.

“Look, Dean. We’re facing some really weird shit right now and we need you with us. It’s together or not at all.”

“I just…can’t go in there, Bobby.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Dean looked up at the harshness in Bobby’s voice. He studied the older man’s face looking for some sign of pity or remorse but let his eyes fall away when Bobby stared back unflinching. He let out a deep breath slowly as if through a straw. Lungs burning, Dean said, “Let’s get this over with, then,” and hopped out of the car.

Sam quickly followed suit, his long legs making his exit awkward as he scrambled out of the truck and stood at Dean’s side. Bobby just shook his head, pulled the keys from the ignition, and joined the boys as they walked up to the steps of the bar.

In the light of late afternoon Dean was able to see the sign above the door that read “Roadhouse Inn” in red and white painted letters. He took a deep breath and followed Bobby inside. He didn’t know if Meg would be here and he sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that she would be out somewhere else, or that she wouldn’t notice that he was there.

They sat down at a table in the far corner away from anyone who might eavesdrop. With a watchful eye on the door, they fell into an uncomfortable silence, not daring to speak in case they missed the entrance of their long-dead-yet-recently-revived-father.

Bobby made it to 5:15 before he decided he needed a drink. It was then, with Bobby up talking to a bartender who was thankfully not Meg, that John Winchester made his way through the front doors.

Dean sat up and hit Sam’s shoulder, rousing him from a daydream. They both watched in awe as John, for it was definitely him, surveyed the room.

He was wearing a long-sleeved checked shirt tucked neatly into his dark pants despite the July heat outside. His ten years of absence showed on his face through a healthy amount of stubble and wrinkles around his eyes. He stood tall, undoubtedly reminiscent of his years in the Navy, and scanned the room, his eyes flicking over Bobby’s form quickly before settling on Dean and Sam in the corner.

Dean couldn’t place the look that passed over John’s face when he saw them. It was not relief and was most definitely not joy or anything akin to happiness. The gleam in John’s eye was something else entirely. Shaking the though from his mind, Dean found John walking towards them and felt Sam stiffen beside him.

“Dean, what do we do?” Sam whispered, suddenly anxious about the meeting. “I mean we haven’t seen him in over ten years. I don’t know who he is anymore.”

“I know, Sammy. We just gotta get through today and then we can find out the truth. He’s gotta have a damn good reason for leaving us like that, right? Just give him a chance and he’ll tell us. Deal?”

Sam nodded feebly and Dean gave him a reassuring look just before John reached the table.

“Boys.”

Dean cleared his throat and forced himself to look up and into the eyes of the man before him.

“Dad.”

John’s face split into a grin at that and he moved forward, capturing Sam and Dean both in a big awkward hug. Suddenly Bobby was there, too, and shook John’s hand stiffly.

“Bobby.”

“John.”

“Mind if I sit?”

“Go right ahead.”

They both sat back down, John in between Sam and Dean. He shook his head before saying, “I never thought this day would come.”

“Neither did we,” Bobby grumbled.

John’s eyes shot to Bobby’s face, cold and ruthless. “Now, let’s not go around playing this game, Bobby. We can act like adults, right? For the sake of my boys?”

Bobby took a long gulp of his beer and didn’t answer.

“Anyway, boys,” John said, his eyes regaining their warmth and moving back to Sam and Dean, “Thank you for trusting me and coming out. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

Dean took a breath, eyebrows furrowing. “So…you’re alive then.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

John nodded silently, watching Dean’s face. “I had some things to take care of. I needed to disappear.”

“So you faked your own death, risking the future mental stability of your children, only to pop back up again when it was convenient?” Surprised at Sam’s voice, Bobby, Dean, and John all turned to the young man and found him with his jaw clenched.

“Sam,” John said quietly. “I’ve missed you.”

Swallowing thickly, Sam fixed John with a glare. “Twelve years. We thought…we thought you were dead. And you left us in those bombs and missiles. You had no way of knowing we would get out. How? How could you do that?”

“I told you. I had a mission, loose ends-”

“One word. That’s all I would’ve needed. One word to let me know that you were still alive.” Sam’s voice shook.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I truly am. This is just something you’ve got to trust me on.”

Sam shook his head and leaned back in his chair, a cold grin on his face. “This is ridiculous. You want me to _forgive_ you for dropping out of my life when I needed you most? And now for reappearing like some kind of zombie out of one of those shitty movies? I won’t do it, _Dad_.”

John stood suddenly, almost knocking his chair to the ground. He leaned across the table until he was inches from Sam’s face.

“Everything I’ve ever done, everything I went through, I did it for you. For my boys. I protected you. I kept you safe. I gave you a life on the move to make you stronger. To make you realize that you can’t stay in the same place forever and expect to be happy. I knew you were strong enough for me to leave and take care of what I needed to clean up. And I was right wasn’t I? You made it out, didn’t you? And stronger than ever I see.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Dad, all due respect but uh, that’s a load of bullshit.”

John looked to Dean. “Oh?”

“I mean, Sam said it. You left us in the middle of a Japanese attack. You knew what was up in the air. Fighter pilots, Dad. With bombs, missiles, hell maybe even poison gas. I mean you can't be that worried about keepin' us safe if you knowingly left your own kids in the middle of a war zone.”

John’s mouth twitched into a grin but his eyes remained cold. “I don’t expect you to understand. I just thought you might want to know why.”

The table slipped into an uneasy silence. Dean rubbed at his chin, looking for a new topic, a way out. Just then, his eye caught movement behind the bar and he looked over to see Meg walking in from the back door. Ducking his head, Dean pushed his chair back quickly, wincing as it scraped loudly against the floor, and excused himself to the bathroom.

Turning quickly down the hall towards the bathrooms, Dean felt a set of eyes piercing the back of his head. He started walking faster and he almost made it. He could see the door to the men’s room looming up to meet him. But suddenly he was blindsided by a short, solid form that backed him up against the wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

“What the hell did I tell you about coming back here, Winchester? And now you’ve brought a gang with you? Don’t make me kick them all out too. That’s bad for business.”

He opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly as he felt the cool muzzle of a hand pistol pressing into his skin just below his ribs.

“I heard from your _boyfriend_ Castiel.” She spit out the words like they were poison. “Gave me a ring a few weeks ago. What a surprise that was, to get a call from an ex-lover asking, not about me, but about another. Such longing in his voice, too. Naturally, I told him the truth: that you’re a rotten son of a bitch just looking to get all of life’s best for free. I’m afraid I might’ve also slipped him a hint that you weren’t exactly interested anymore…ain’t that a bite? That’s what happens when you fuck me over, Winchester,” She stuck the pistol in his ribs, her thumb dancing along the hammer. “I’ll do the same right back to you.”

Dean sucked in a breath, trying to stay calm. This would explain why he hadn’t heard from Cas in weeks but he couldn’t let Meg think that she’d gotten to him. He looked her in the eye. “Oh I believe you. I mean, who knows more about fucking than you?” As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. She was holding a pistol to his stomach, for god’s sake. It was just so unlike him that it took every ounce not to crumble and apologize. But the damage had been done and there could be no going back now.

Meg’s nostrils flared and her thumb settled resolutely on the hammer of the pistol. She clicked it back and her mouth settled into a hard line. Then without warning, Meg lowered the pistol and switched it to her left hand, bringing her right fist back and then down on Dean’s face, clocking him square in the nose.

“ _I definitely deserved that_ ,” Dean thought, doubling over in pain. He felt his nose for blood and found a few drops dripping slowly down his lip. He looked up to see Meg de-cocking the pistol and stashing it in her waistband.

“Now you and all your little buddies over there are going to be out of here in five minutes or I swear on everything you hold dear that I will use this gun and your ass will be my first target. Five minutes.”

And then she was gone, almost as suddenly as she had appeared. Dean pushed open the bathroom door and grabbed some paper towels to stem the bleeding from his nose. He inspected it in the mirror and concluding that it wasn’t broken, walked back out to the table silently.

“Where you been, son?” John said as he walked up.

“We should probably get out of here.”

“Dean? What happened to you?” Bobby asked, real concern in his voice.

“The owner of this place’s got a bead on my ass so I would appreciate it if we finished this conversation somewhere else. Preferably far away from here.”

“I was just leaving,” John said. “I’ve got to be on my way but I’ll stop by sometime in the fall. Sound like a plan, boys?”

Dean nodded, relieved yet confused. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I’ve got to ramble on, Dean. It’s what I do. Besides, I’ve got a few more people I want to see.”

“You can come back but I won’t be here.” Sam spoke up.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Sammy?” John asked, not unkindly.

“Well it means that I’ll be at college. Therefore, not here.”

John’s eyes widened and he looked Sam up and down. “You? A college boy? You gotta be kidding me. Idaho State won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“Actually uh, I’m going to Stanford. Law school, hopefully.”

John whistled through his teeth. “How ‘bout that.”

Sam just nodded. Dean looked between the two and then glanced behind him at the bar, meeting Meg’s eyes in an intense stare.

“Okay well this has been great and I hate to spoil the evening but we’ve really got to go. Really got to ramble, as you say, Dad.”

John nodded, still looking at Sam. “When do you leave? Maybe I can make it back to send you off?”

Sam looked to Dean. “Whenever Dean says is when we’re leaving. He’s driving me down there, even though I really need my own car so it doesn’t really make sense.”

“We’ve already talked about this Sam. I’ve got to make sure you’re settled in, maybe sign a few papers, so I’ve got to be there. Alright, can we leave now?” Dean’s fingers clenched nervously. “We’ll be leaving sometime in August. That’s all I know right now.”

Suddenly Dean had a vision of himself showing up as Cas’ place only to find him with someone else, convinced that Dean was too much of a, what had Meg said, a “rotten son of a bitch” to actually make the journey. What if he went all that way just to be rejected? One thing was for sure: that would be a hell of a long ride home.

He gave Bobby a look that begged, “Help me!” and so together they herded John and Sam out the door and down the steps. John pulled his two sons into an embrace. “I’ll see you too soon.”

They broke apart quickly as Meg stormed out onto the porch. “Thirty seconds and counting,” she called, pulling her pistol out and pointing it towards Dean.

They scrambled into their cars and peeled out of the parking area, Bobby following closely behind John. They were almost to the dirt road when they heard a sharp “p-ting” and the truck lurched.

“Did she just shoot my car??” Bobby yelled. “She just shot my car! Jesus, Dean what did you do to piss this woman off so bad?”

Dean hunkered down in his seat and watched Meg’s form shrink in the side mirror, arm strong, pistol raised until he could see nothing more than the dust from the road.

In the monotony of the ride, Dean replayed the afternoon in his mind over and over again. He saw John walking in the doors of the bar, finding Sam and Dean and walking over with a curious expression on his face. Dean watched the scene, trying to place John's look. At first he had thought it was pride. Now, staring out the window, Dean felt shivers run down his spine as he realized that the look John had given them was one reminiscent of a predator finally locking onto its prey.


	13. Chapter 13

Late August 1953

Dean drove with the windows down and his eye fixed on Sam in the car behind him. He hummed absentmindedly, resting his arm on the window and letting his hand fall out to catch the wind. They had been going for hours, since before the sun was up, and if Sam kept up they just might make it to California today.

His mouth curled up in a slight grin as he took in the scenery around them, the red dirt of the Nevada canyons dotted here and there with startling patches of green. This is what Dean lived for: the open road. The sun high in the sky, a full tank of gas, and nothing ahead but an endless horizon full of potential. Of course, it helped to be driving in just about the best ride in the country.

Dean patted Baby’s steering wheel and the Kaiser responded with a pleasant growl, pushing forward under Dean’s steady hand. It had taken a lot of effort in those last few months but Bobby’s deadline kept Dean working and he finished with days to spare. He took her out for a spin daily, readying her for her debut trip to California.

Checking the rearview mirror once more, Dean nodded to himself when he saw Sam in the truck behind him. Sam had been right, of course, to take his own car. The kid was always a step ahead; neither Bobby nor Dean wanted to drive all the way out to Stanford every time Sam wanted to come home. So Sam got Dean’s old truck and Dean took full control of the Kaiser.

It had been a uneventful couple of days, just the two of them driving as far as they could before crashing in the first roadside inn they came across. Neither of them felt like talking much, but Dean did manage to get out his reason for piggy-backing off of Sam’s Stanford Orientation.

“Cas? Like Castiel Novak? From Pearl Harbor?”

Dean nodded, punching the pillow behind his head into a more comfortable position.

“No way. I’d completely forgotten about that guy. How’d you find him?”

“Uhh mutual friends,” Dean grunted, already regretting telling Sam about trying to meet up with Cas.

“Wait, is he the one you always wrote those long letters to?”

Dean gave Sam an irritated look, his lips pursing. Sam’s eyes searched Dean’s face, eyebrows raising and lips parting in disbelief.

“He is, I remember now! You’d sit up all night writing those letters until they were perfect but you wouldn’t ever let anyone read them. Dean, holy shit, you’re totally in deep for this guy. Are you guys gonna fu-” Sam sputtered as a rock hard pillow hit him in the face, followed not long after by the solid form of a charging Dean, full of rage and embarrassment, but mostly relief that Sam had understood Dean without him having to explain everything like in those ten-cent little girls’ films.

They hadn’t really talked much after that but Dean felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He walked taller, he sat straighter, he smiled wider. There was nothing quite like the quiet reassurance of a kick-ass little brother.

\--

The next day, they rolled into Stanford, California, a green town with more brick buildings than the two brothers had ever seen in such a small area.

“Hell, Sam, you could probably just walk everywhere they’ve got the buildings so damn close together.”

“I’m keeping the truck, Dean.”

Dean laughed and pointed to an official looking sign. “This mean anything to you?”

Sam read the sign, looked around some, and motioned to Dean, “Admissions office is this way.”

They set off together, walking past building after building. It took a little longer than Dean expected to get to the admissions office, what with all the hills and stoplights. Finally, they walked up the stairs of a big brick and concrete building and pushed open the big wooden doors.

Sam was immediately ushered into a separate office where they asked him trivial things like how his trip was, when he wanted to unpack, and what he thought of the campus. Dean sat outside the door, listening to the secretary inside drone on about the August heat and unusual rain that had come through just a few weeks earlier. He drifted into a semi-conscious state in the luxury of a leather chair and air conditioning, thinking back to just a few days ago, when they had left Bobby’s.

\--

Sam was adamant about waiting for John.

“He said he’d come by before I left, right? Just give him some time. I don’t want to leave and then have him show up a few hours later. That’s not his fault.”

“Sam, I just don’t think he’s coming.” Bobby kept saying.

“Yeah hey Sammy we’d better hit the road pretty soon here if you wanna make it to your orientation party.”

“I want to say goodbye to my father, thanks.”

Dean sighed. He wished John were there, too. This was a big moment for Sam, for all of them, and John should be here with them. With the family.

“Listen. I understand Dad’s not exactly a man of his word but I mean we’re his sons, right? That’s got to count for something.” Sam argued weakly.

So they waited. They waited all afternoon until Bobby said it was too dark to start out now. So they left their suitcases by the door and went back upstairs again for one last night. And when morning came, Sam simply picked up his stuff, loaded it in the truck and announced that he was ready to go.

Dean and Bobby shared a glance but Dean was ready to get on the road, too, so he didn’t say anything. Bobby gave Sam an extra long hug and said, “You need anything you better not hesitate to drive that fancy car right back up here and ask. You hear me? I know you’ll do great down there, son.”

Sam smiled and Bobby gave him a hug and a hearty pat on the back and then they were off. Dean settled in to the Kaiser, said a prayer to whoever was listening that she would make the trip, and headed out down the road, Sam following behind him.

\--

Dean heard a loud click next to his ear as the office door opened and Sam walked out, the secretary following close behind. Pushing himself out of the comfy leather chair was hard work, but Dean managed to stand up and take a large stack of papers that Sam handed him.

“What’s all this?”

“Just, uh, information,” Sam said, fixing Dean with a panicked stare.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched up in confusion. “Uh, Sam, what’s wr-”

“You must be Sam’s older brother! It’s just all my greatest pleasure to meet you. Sam’s told me so much about you.”

Sam’s face fell and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his dead eyes looking anywhere but the eager face of the young secretary who had come up behind them.

Dean looked between the two, eyebrows raised, but Sam refused to look at him. Dean regarded the excited blonde young woman in front of him with a small smile. Her eyes lit up.

“So great to meet you I mean wow, Dean, right? I’ve just been chatting with Sam here and oh gee well welcome to Stanford I just know he’ll love it here. I’m Becky, by the way. I mean maybe he’ll love it, it seems like a great place to be,” she lowered her voice, “This is my first day on the job so I’m a little nervous, I don’t know if you can tell.” She looked around, a worried look on her face.

Dean took a deep breath a shook his head. “You’re doing fine. I’m sure this’ll be a great place for you, too. Betty, was it?” He tried out a smile, but abandoned it as soon as the young woman looked down at her feet, blushing bright red.

“Becky,” she corrected a wide smile spreading across her flushed face. “Who knew I’d meet two charming Winchesters for the price of one?” she joked nervously, her hands fluttering around until finally coming to rest on Sam’s arm.

“Funny how that worked out, huh?” Sam said quickly. “Dean. I need to unpack _right now_ and my car is _very_ far away so we’d better get going, don’t you think?” His eyes never left Dean’s, trying to ignore the adoring looks that Becky kept giving him. Dean grinned, realizing the gravity of the situation. It was practically being handed to him on a silver platter. There was no way he was going to pass this up.

“Well you know, Sam. It’s not everyday you check into the Stanford Motel. I think we’d benefit from some maps and information about the campus. I don’t know about you but I’d love to know the _entire_ history behind the place. Do you think you could help us out with that, Becky? It’d be a great favor to Sam, since he’s going to be living here now.”

Becky’s hands flew to her mouth and she practically squealed with excitement. “I have just what you need, boys, don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” she said, placing a trembling hand on Sam’s chest. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She disappeared into the office behind her and Sam left out a heavy sigh, his whole body slumping forward. He shot Dean a hard glare.

“Hey chin-up, kiddo,” Dean chided. “You’re about to have the best info session of your life.”

“I hate you so much.”

“This is payback, little brother. Plain and simple. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Becky came skipping back, brochures and pamphlets in her slender arms and a big smile on her face. “I’ve got everything you could ever want to know about Stanford. Want to come in and take a seat? Get comfy?” Her eyes flicked to Sam’s face.

Dean feigned horror. “Oh no! I’ve just remembered I parked in a no parking zone thinking that we’d be moving on soon. My car’s been sitting there for a solid thirty minutes. I better go and check on it but you two chickens stay here and work it all out and I’ll meet up with you afterwards. Sound good?”

Sam’s face twisted up as he realized what Dean was doing. His chest puffed out and he opened his mouth, indignant. “ _Dean._ ”

“Dean?”

They all three jumped at the voice, a deep scratchy sound that froze Dean’s insides instantly.

He turned slowly and found himself staring into eyes of the bluest blue, framed by dark eyebrows and sharp cheekbones. Dean’s eyes started to blur but he could still make out a mess of black hair and a solid jawline.

He could hear someone talking behind him but he couldn’t make out what they were saying or if it was important. Nothing could be as important as what was in front of him right now, though, and so Dean ignored the faint buzzing that surrounded him. He let himself be swept in by those hard yet forgiving eyes until a kaleidoscope of dazzling blue and black consumed his vision.

He swallowed and the sound felt impossibly loud in his own ears, although not as loud as the pounding of his heart. Face flushed, Dean swallowed again, his vision clearing. And there, standing less than ten feet away from him was Cas.

Dean opened his mouth but no sound came out. He cleared his throat harshly and tried again, letting out a rough, “Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean just nodded, unsure of what to say or how to act. He swallowed until his mouth went dry, his mind racing for something to say.

“Cas.”

Sam looked on, unaware of Becky’s grasp on his elbow. “Hey Cas,” he said, feeling a pang of brotherly responsibility for Dean.

“Sam. How are you?" Cas seemed relieved at Sam's interjection. "What a surprise to run into you here. Dean said you’d be attending Stanford this fall but what a coincidence to meet up with you both and in this way.” He smiled politely, glancing at Dean but returning his gaze quickly to Sam’s face.

“Yeah it’s pretty crazy. What, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, what brings you to the Stanford admissions office? Dean said you lived not too far from here but to run into you actually on campus, what are the odds, right?” He gave Cas a smile, aware of Dean’s silence beside him.

“Actually, I work here. Well, halfway. I do take classes also but mostly just for fun. To keep my mind active, I suppose. The rest of the time I teach.”

“No way! That’s impressive. What do you teach?”

“English mostly but I do love all of the disciplines.” Cas sighed but his face shone brightly. Suddenly realizing that Dean was still staring at him, Cas took a step back. “Is this a bad time?”

“Becky here was just about to give us the run down on the campus and the university and all,” Sam said, glancing quickly at Dean. His lips twitched into a sideways grin, “Care to join us?” He felt Dean flinch beside him.

Dean snapped out of his haze at Sam’s words, looking at his brother with wide-eyed horror. Of course Cas didn’t want to hear about the university; he apparently fucking _taught_ there. Dean scrambled to come up with a half-decent excuse to get them out of the suddenly stuffy building. _“Were the lights always this bright?”_ he thought to himself as he racked his brain for something to say.

Thankfully Cas spoke up so Dean didn’t have to. The dark-haired man shook his head saying, “I’ve got some things to take care of but maybe we could meet up after you’ve moved in? Would that be alright?” Cas held out his hand.

Sam took Cas’s extended hand and gave it a firm shake. “Yeah sure thing, Cas. See you around.”

Stepping back, Cas finally turned to Dean. Dean swallowed again, aware of the blood creeping up his neck as he studied the other man’s face. It was truly a work of art, cheekbones and jawline and damn those lips-

“Now Dean, I can show you some parking options if you’re still worried about getting a ticket.”

“A what? Oh, uh yeah that would be great.” Dean kicked himself mentally.

Sam let out a soft “Huh” and Dean shot him a glare.

“Just give me a minute, Cas.”

Dean pulled Sam aside. “I’ll just meet up with you later, okay? Back at the car at what, six? Because then I’ve got to find somewhere to lodge for the night. Hey and listen, you be a god student and learn everything you can from Becky here. Got to embrace all your education opportunities, right? And I’m sure you two’ll become fast friends.”

Sam gave Dean a tight smile. “Yeah. Be careful moving the furniture, Dean. I mean car.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, walking back to Cas.

“Did you say something?” Cas asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“No just- little siblings, you know how it is.”

“Trust me, I know,” Cas said. Dean remembered a young Cas recounting tales of his brothers and sisters and smiled.

“All right, so. Lead the way, professor.”

“Well you’ll have to take me to your car,” Cas said pointedly, opening the door and following Dean outside onto the steps.

Dean looked at Cas, not sure what he was getting at. Did he want to fuck right now? In his car? Dean had to admit, it was nice picture, although perhaps a little sudden.

“Because I don’t know where you parked…” Cas said slowly, watching Dean’s face turn red once more.

“Right. The car. In the no parking zone. Got it.” He turned quickly and hopped down the steps. _“Damn I am so stupid,”_ he thought to himself. _“Stupid and horny, apparently.”_

Aloud he said, “I’m not really parked in a no parking spot I just wanted to leave Sam and Becky alone. It’s sort of a revenge thing to get back at Sam, I guess. I can’t really explain it.”

Cas nodded. “An age old archetype. Revenge between brothers. Well, we can still walk around while Sam gets over-educated about Rancho San Francisquito.”

Dean nodded shyly. “That was sorta the plan.”

They walked slowly and deliberately across the campus, filling each other in on the past ten years.

Cas told Dean about living on the base after the Pearl Harbor attack, with everyone getting ready for war. Cas had sat in terror in front of the radio as FDR announced that they were officially at war with Japan. And just days later, Germany made its move and declared war on America itself. It was a time of endless fear.

Dean knew some of this from Cas’ early letters, but he listened as if Cas were telling him the secret of life, hanging on to every word.

Cas and his family had moved back to California before the summer of 1942; a working Navy base was no place for an architect and a young family. They settled in San Francisco, where his father worked odd jobs and his mother took work as a seamstress. Cas went to a small public school and fell in love with reading. His eyes brightened as he described it to Dean.

“When I picked up a book it felt like I was holding a whole universe in the palm of my hand. I held the lives and dreams and fates of all the characters in my fingers and it made me feel like I mattered. I was important to the author. They put in all the effort to write the book, I took the time to read it and be changed by the writing. Something about that codependency makes me just…I don’t know, it’s exciting.”

Dean nodded, well aware of the feeling. “There’s a sort of connection between the author and the reader. Yeah, I get that.”

Cas nodded, continuing with his story of how he applied to Stanford on a whim and somehow made it in.

Dean scoffed at that. “ _Somehow_ , my ass. You’re crazy smart, Cas. There’s no way they could reject you, then or now.”

“Whatever you say, Winchester.” Cas gave Dean a small smile and their eyes met. Dean felt his breath quicken as he stared into the other man’s eyes.

“So,” Cas said, looking away and across the campus. “What have you been up to all these years, Dean? Iowa seems to have treated you all right.”

Dean nodded and then launched into his story, describing how he and Sam had grown up under Bobby’s roof after leaving the base. He told Cas all about his work, all about the cars he’d fixed over the years, a note of pride in his voice.

“Sam can pass all those fancy tests but I can build a car from ground up. That’s gotta count for something right?” Dean shrugged and shook his head. “It’s all I can really do," he said, laughing.

Daring a quick glance at Cas, Dean found the other man looking at him with- what was that? Concern? Adoration? God forbid, was that pity?

“I’ve actually,” Dean coughed. “The car I drove down here, it’s one of mine. Took it all apart and fixed it back up. Maybe you wanna take a look? I mean, you don’t have to if you don-”

“It would be my pleasure. Lead the way.” Cas said.

\--

“Damn she’s a beauty.” Cas said in a low voice when they reached the Kaiser. “A downright work of art.”

Dean smiled at Cas’ words. “She’s my Baby.”

“I’ll bet you’re the talk of the town in Iowa, rolling around on these wheels.”

“Nobody’s seen anything like her, that’s for sure. The dust is a bitch, though. She needs a wash after every ride, I swear.” Dean said, running his hand along the shining roof paneling.

Cas regarded the car silently, making a full circle around the Kaiser before stopping across the car from Dean. His eyes traced over the black hood slowly.

“What did Meg say about her?” He finally asked, dragging his eyes up to meet Dean’s.

“Meg? Oh she didn’t, she hasn’t seen the car. I just finished her maybe two weeks ago. You’re the first one to really get to check her out.” Dean tried to hold Cas’ gaze but failed, letting his eyes fall on the car in between them.

“I see.” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Dean said lamely.

An uncomfortable silence fell, as dark and expansive as the car that separated them. Overhead, the sun filtered through the trees, casting a shadow over Cas’ face. Dean took a deep breath and walked around the car towards Cas.

“Listen,-”

“Dean, I-”

They spoke simultaneously and then stopped, each waiting for the other one to go on.

“You first,” Dean said.

Cas sighed. “It’s nothing. Just forget it, actually. You were going to say something?”

“Yeah, after you finish whatever it is that you were going to say.”

“God I’d forgotten how stubborn you can be,” Cas said, a light smile on his lips. His eyes clouded over. “I was just going to tell you that it’s fine. The whole thing with Meg and you know, the sex or whatever. When you called me I guess I was just so surprised and a little embarrassed and I didn’t react very well. You’re your own person and I should’ve never…I just want to make it clear that…it’s all fine.” Cas’ eyes searched Dean’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head. “This is all my fault, there’s no need for _you_ to apologize. I was stupid, I just rushed into it. I don’t know…I just remember feeling so alone and then she was there with booze and open arms. I should’ve known, I should’ve stopped myself or something.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known, Dean. And besides, it’s not like you’ve done anything inherently wrong. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my studies of literature, it’s that sex is a pretty common theme. Very popular across the board. And truly, it’s a beautiful thing. Having sex doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Dean leaned away from Cas, bringing a hand up to his forehead in frustration. “But it was with _Meg_. This girl who had a goddamned picture of you framed in her room. And man the morning after…it reminded me why I usually don’t stay that long. It’s always either too awkward or too angry. Or in this case, both.” Dean took a breath, hands on his hips, squinting out at the sunset. “I feel like I used her but then karma didn’t come back to bite me in the ass. Instead I found you.” Dean turned decidedly towards Cas. “And I don’t deserve that.”

Lips pursed, throat suddenly heavy, Dean regarded Cas through conflicted eyes. Cas just stared back at him, his head tilted slightly in a way that sent Dean back to their days at the base when they were just kids. That same head tilt with the open yet questioning eyes. Lips slightly parted as his eyes narrowed in on a conclusion.

“You really believe that. You don’t believe you mean anything to this world. How can things suddenly be going so right for you- that’s what you’re wondering. Because you see yourself as this big villainous character who maybe started out with good intentions but had the world warped around him until he doesn’t know right from wrong anymore.” Cas’ voice got quieter and quieter as he went on. “You really believe that.”

Dean clenched his jaw and made himself stare back into Cas’ impossibly blue eyes. He didn’t want to show Cas how deep those words cut to the truth. He was stronger than this.

“Dean, do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” Cas asked, his voice still soft.

“I was just gonna work my way around until I found uh, a motel or something.”

“Don’t bother. You can stay at my apartment. It’s right on the other side of campus so we can meet up with Sam in the morning before he heads off to whatever first year law students are supposed to do. Really, it’s _fine_ ,” Cas said, giving Dean a reassuring smile when he saw the other man open his mouth to decline. “It’ll be good for me to have company. I still haven’t quite worked out how you could just sit down one day and rebuild a car.”

“Actually the car took several months.”

“Then we’ll have lots to talk about. What do you say, Dean?”

Dean shook his head but his heart was growing lighter. “Fine. It’ll save me a lot of trouble I guess. You’re sure this is okay?”

“Of course. I’ve even got a spare room so no one ends up on the couch.”

Nodding gratefully, Dean moved to sit down on the curb in front of the car. Cas joined him after a brief second.

“What are you thinking, Dean?”

It took Dean a minute to find words to describe the tumultuous emotions that racked his insides as he sat on that curb, feeling the heat from Cas’ warm body beside him as he watched Dean with those damn eyes and that damn head tilt. And those damn lips. He searched for something to convey his loneliness form the past ten years and how, in the hour that he had been with Cas, how that gut-wrenching sadness had almost disappeared. He wanted to whisper in Cas’ ear and tell him how much he had missed him but he was frozen in place, mind blank.

“My father’s alive.” Dean blurted out loudly.

Cas flinched at the volume of Dean’s outburst. He took a careful breath, afraid to say the wrong thing. “I though he…the Japanese attack…how did you find out?”

“He just fucking _showed up_ one day. Popped in for a few drinks like he was meeting up with friends after a game of ball. So fucking casual. Casually just walking back into our lives after we’d left him for dead so long ago. And doesn’t breathe a word on why. Not _one word_ on how he could just-” Dean stopped, gradually becoming aware that he was almost shouting by this point. “Gave us some shit about how he needed to ‘disappear’. Who does that? What father leaves his children to take care of his bad rep?” He took a shaky breath, propping his elbows on his knees and letting his head and shoulders slump forward, lacing his fingers together at the base of his neck. “I want to hate him so bad, Cas, I do. But there’s something about- something about being family I guess and I just…I can’t bring myself to hate the son of a bitch.” Dean heard his voice crack on the last word and crumpled in on himself even more, ashamed that Cas had to see him like this but once the tears started, he couldn’t stop the flow. _“Bullshit,”_ he thought to himself weakly, _“Dean Winchester doesn’t cry.”_

Cas’ arm worked it way around Dean’s shoulders, squeezing gently and pulling him into an awkward but not unwelcome embrace. Dean tried to stay upright but soon found himself slipping more and more into Cas’ arms until his head lay on the other man’s chest and his hands clutched with a childlike dependency onto Cas’ tan trench coat.

“Hey now. You’re all right. I’ve got you.” Cas said quietly and suddenly Dean was twelve years old again, huddling in Cas’ embrace as the Japanese bombs rained down overhead. _“I won’t ever let you go,”_ he heard a young Cas saying with such conviction that he wondered if he was imagining things or if Cas had actually just whispered the words aloud.

They stayed that way until the sky turned red and pink and the sun finally disappeared behind the trees. In the semi-darkness Dean sat up, careful not to leave the security of Cas’ encircling arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Cas merely smiled. He leaned over and kissed Dean on the top of his head.

“Sam’ll be here soon,” Dean said quickly. “I told him to meet me at the car at six. Is it six yet? Damn, what time is it?” He grudgingly pushed his way out of Cas’ warm embrace and stood up, stretching out his back and pointedly avoiding Cas’ eyes.

In a pitiful show of self-control, Dean glanced down at Cas quickly and found the other man looking away across the street. Dean brought his arm up to check his watch and walked a little ways up the sidewalk to see if Sam was anywhere near.

“Look, Dean,” Cas started. His eyes remained fixed on some point across the street. The first of the fallen leaves made their way across the road, guided by the gentle breeze. Slowly pushing himself up to a stand, he wiped his hands on his trench coat and then gave a heavy sigh. “How about hamburgers for dinner? There’s a diner a few doors down from my apartment.”

“That sounds great, Cas. Give me the address and I’ll meet you there after I take care of Sammy. Speak of the devil, here comes the kid now.”

“It’s a place called McKelvin’s. You can’t miss it. See you at seven?” Cas asked.

“Seven, seven thirty yeah, sounds good.” Dean nodded, watching Sam make his way down the sidewalk, arms full of brochures and info packets. He turned to Cas. “Thanks for everything.”

Cas simply stared back at Dean, blue eyes to green. Dean felt his stomach clench up and his vision went fuzzy around the edges, highlighting Cas in a sort of ethereal glow. Had it not been for Sam walking up just then, Dean may have stayed there all night just letting Cas consume his vision.

Sam looked between the two but didn’t say anything, just threw his papers in the backseat of the Kaiser and coughed loudly. Cas looked towards Sam and gave a small grin. “See you later, Sam. Good luck.” He turned once more to Dean and nodded.

And then was on his way, leaving only the quiet flapping of his trench coat and the leaves crunching under his feet.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean and Sam managed to move all of Sam’s stuff into his room in less than thirty minutes, a new record for the boys. Even though they packed light on principle, Dean was left breathless after carrying the third trunk up the stairs to Sam’s second story dorm room.

“What the hell are you gonna do with all this crap, Sammy?” Dean asked, letting the trunk fall to the ground with a loud thump.

“Dean don’t just drop it what if there’s something important in there? Besides, this is where I have to live now. I have to be prepared, right?"

“Whatever, Sam. All I’m saying is you’ve got to find a place in this tiny room to stow all this crap, plus whatever your roommate brings. Good luck to ya, kid,” Dean said, shaking his head. “This is just too weird. I never thought…”

“Never thought what, Dean?”

“I don’t know I never thought I’d be moving my baby brother into his dorm room at the nation’s most prestigious colleges. Hell, the world’s most prestigious.”

Sam laughed. “Stanford’s not that great, Dean.”

Stepping across the room, Dean punched Sam in the arm and grabbed him up in a rough headlock. “Don’t you ever say that, again. You’re gonna love it here, okay? Say it!” Dean sidestepped Sam’s flailing attempt to knock him off his feet. “Say it!” he demanded again, smiling.

“I’m gonna love it!”

“What’s that?”

_“I’m gonna love it here!”_

“That’s my boy,” Dean said, laughing, and released Sam from his grip. Sam grinned, rubbing his neck.

“So how were things with Cas? Have you guys set a date yet? I hear June’s a good time for weddings.”

Giving Sam a threatening glare, Dean walked over and sat on the bed.

“Don’t make me come over there again, Sammy.”

“I dare you to try, old man.”

Dean grunted and thought about taking the bait but decided against it and ended up just lying back on the bed.

“If I…can I uh, tell you something, Sam?”

Suddenly more serious, Sam came to sit next to Dean on the small twin bed. He looked down at his brother laid out on the bed, eyes closed. He felt a pang go through his chest when he realized that tomorrow or maybe the next day, Dean would be gone, back in Idaho and he would be alone. Alone in a world of academics that intimidated him and culture that confounded him. Taking a deep breath and pushing his doubts down, Sam laid back beside Dean.

“You can tell me anything, Dean. You know that.”

Eyes still closed, Dean nodded. He ran his tongue along his lips, unsure of how to start. They lay in silence for long while before Dean spoke softly.

“Basically, I just don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Here, back in Idaho, with my life in general. It’s not a good feeling, let me tell you, but I deal with it because it’s all I’ve got. There’s really no way out for me. You’ve got your brains and Bobby’s got his business but me…well I’ve got about six bucks to my name and an eye for cars. That's it. But with Cas…dammit this is gonna sound so sappy but when I’m with Cas I don’t feel that way anymore. Something about it makes me feel like that stuff doesn’t matter. Because when you’ve got him standing there in front of you it’s like, how could you ever complain or worry again? Because nothing could go wrong with him around…” Dean took a breath and opened one eye to peek at Sam and found his little brother sleeping lightly, his mouth slightly open. Shaking his head, Dean sat up and looked out the window at the darkening sky. _“That’s what I get for getting all emotional, I guess,”_ he thought.

He left a note on Sam’s luggage promising to swing by the next morning. Then he made his way down the stairs and out the door, starting up Baby’s engine and making his way down to McKelvin’s.

\--

It was a cliché diner, seeped in tradition and regular customers. Dean parked a few doors down and hopped out, aware that it was well past seven thirty.

He pushed the door open, hearing the little bells ringing above his head as he did so. The people at the end of the bar looked up as he entered, gave him a quick smile and returned to their conversations. Rubbing his arm nervously, he looked around for the familiar black-haired man in a tan trench coat. Finally he spotted Cas in one of the back booths and made his way over.

“Hey sorry I’m late. I didn’t think about moving Sammy in tonight so we had to move all his crap up in one of those tiny little rooms,” he explained, sliding into the booth across from Cas.

“It’s not a problem, Dean, don’t worry.” Cas motioned to a passing waiter. “Can I get some water for my friend here?”

“Sure, Professor Novak. Coming right up!”

Impressed, Dean watched the waiter scurry back into the kitchen to do Cas’ bidding. “Professor Novak. Very nice. Very professional sounding.” Dean said, smiling. _“And sexy as hell,”_ he thought to himself.

“You think so? I think it a bit formal but once it catches on-”

“Here’s your water, sir. Anything else you need, Professor Novak?” the waiter asked, reappearing suddenly.

“Well you get my point,” Cas said quietly to Dean before turning to the waiter. “A double stacker burger with everything, hold the pickles tonight though. Dean?”

“Uh same. Double with everything.” Dean fumbled. “Extra ketchup?”

The waiter nodded and then disappeared again.

“So,” Cas said.

Dean took a sip of his water, eying Cas. “So.”

Cas sighed, bringing his elbows to the table and crowing his arms in front of him. “Dean…to be fair, I need to know what this is. What exactly is supposed to happen now. I don’t mean to be a dick but I need to know: why are you here?”

Weighing his options, Dean settled on, “It’s nothing- it’s two friends meeting up for the first time in ten years to catch up. That’s all it really is.”

“But given the nature of how our reunion came about, from a phone number dedicated to an ex-lover of both of ours- you don’t see anything in that that makes this a little more?”

“What do you want me to say, Cas? I saw the photo, I called the number, and here we are.”

“Yes, Dean, but _why_? There must be a reason why you called. What do you expect to happen?”

Dean stared back at Cas, not sure if he was being played or if Cas didn’t know. If he genuinely thought that Dean’s intentions were honorable. A sudden image popped into Dean’s head: all those nights clutching his half of the grainy photograph in one hand while the other worked around his hard dick, squeezing and pumping until Dean bit his lip and arched his back in pleasure, all the while his eyes locked on that stupid photo.

He let out a breath when he saw their waiter come out of the kitchen with their meals, giving Dean a chance to dodge Cas’ question and compose himself.

Biting into the burger, he let out a moan that was half caused by the intense flavor of the burger, half caused by the sudden sight of Cas licking some ketchup from his fingers.

“This is the best damn burger I’ve ever had.” He said to Cas, mouth still full. _“Calm down,”_ he commanded mentally.

Cas nodded and picked up a napkin to dry his fingers. “I knew you’d love it.”

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, one of them interjecting a funny anecdote here and there. But mostly they just enjoyed their burgers and each other’s presence in peace.

\--

  
After splitting the bill (Dean was adamant that he should pay his share), the two made their way out onto the streets. They walked to the car and Dean even opened the door for Cas, something that he never did for anyone else. But he felt that he had to do something for Cas to show him he cared. Or something like that.

 _“Holy shit I am so bad at this kind of thing,”_ Dean thought as he made his way around to the driver’s side. _“Now I remember why I never had a girlfriend for longer than a week. But this is okay. Cas is different. Right?”_

They pulled out and made their way down just three blocks until Cas pointed to a dusty parking area.

“This should be fine, I think. You won’t get too upset about the dust?” Cas asked Dean, a small grin betraying his serious eyes.

“Yeah she’ll do just fine. Don’t worry about it.” Dean pulled his bag from the back and followed Cas up to the building. He hesitated as Cas pulled out a key to unlock the back door.

“Cas, I don’t really know if- I can always just find somewhere else to stay.”

Silent, Cas just pulled open the door and motioned Dean inside. After a moment of deliberation, Dean did as instructed and stepped into a narrow hallway.

“Uh Cas, hey I don’t exactly know where to-” he turned and found Cas right behind him, so close that he could see the tiny sun spots on Cas’ face, the crooked eyelashes on his left bottom eyelid. “-go,” he breathed, afraid to move.

“The stairs are straight forward and to your left,” Cas murmured.

“Right,” Dean replied softly. He swayed slightly, leaning back and then forward, closer to Cas’ upturned face. A loud shudder from the ceiling overhead made Dean lean back and turn around. He looked at the ceiling above his head but could find nothing immediately wrong.

Cas, behind him, cleared his throat. “Air conditioning just kicked on,” he explained.

“Ah,” Dean said quietly, cursing himself internally and moving down the hall to the stairs. “What floor?”

“Four.”

\--

Cas unlocked the door to his apartment and pushed the door open for Dean to enter. The space was large but the perimeter was lined with papers and books. It was messy yet organized, modern yet timeless, cozy yet professional. All in all, it was just so _Cas_.

“This is really nice, Cas. Thanks again. I mean it.”

“My pleasure, Dean. Can I take your things?”

“No it’s all right I’ll just keep it out here with me. Couch is mine, yeah?”

Cas regarded Dean with open eyes. “Do you want the couch?”

“I’d love it, yeah. I can sleep anywhere, man, don’t worry about me.”

At Dean’s words, Cas dropped his eyes and moved past Dean. “There’s a bathroom back down that way. Feel free to make yourself at home. See you in the morning.” He turned away but Dean caught a glimpse of his face just before Cas turned his back. God was that _disappointment?_

 _“Get it together, Dean,”_ he instructed himself in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth. _“You’re just seeing things the way you want to see them. Let’s get back to reality, okay?”_ As if to punctuate his point, Dean splashed ice-cold water on his face and slapped himself a few times.

Grateful that he had had the foresight to pack a pair or legitimate pajamas, Dean shuffled out to the living room in his black and gray cottons. He found a stack of blankets and pillows waiting for him and smiled to himself. Picking up one of the blankets, he held it to his face and breathed in, drowning his senses in Cas.

And suddenly, he knew what he had to do.

He set the blanket down silently and moved across the room to where he had seen Cas go. Standing before the large white door, Dean felt nothing but calm. He knocked twice and pushed the door open, not even waiting for a reply from within.

Cas stuck his head out of the back bathroom as Dean entered his bedroom. Wearing just his pants from earlier that day, Cas watched Dean walk across the room towards him.

“You asked me why I was here?” Dean said in a low voice.

“I did,” Cas confirmed, stepping out of the bathroom and meeting Dean in the middle of his bedroom.

“I’m here because it’s been too long since I could do this.”

Dean took Cas’ face in his hands and brought their lips together. He kissed Cas truly and honestly, making up for the past ten years. Working against Cas’ lips, Dean felt himself melting inside. Here he was, Dean Winchester, kissing the lips of Castiel Novak once again. And nothing in the world could take this away from him.

Cas was receptive to Dean’s touch, dragging his hands up Dean’s torso as they kissed. He finally reached Dean’s shoulders and gripped them tight while pushing his body closer. Dean moved his hands down to explore the bare skin of Cas’ chest and felt that spot just behind his gut tighten. The muscle and sinew beneath his fingers was tight and toned as he made his way from Cas’ chest around to the dip in his back that was graciously spared from the waistband of Cas’ pants.

Cas bit Dean’s bottom lip softly and then drew back slightly. “Do you want to move to the bed?” he asked, still grinding his body against Dean.

“Yeah, Cas, I’d really like that.” Dean murmured.

A wicked grin spreading across his face, Cas stepped back, leaving two feet of empty space where there had just been fiery contact. “Take off your shirt. Then lay back on the bed, Dean.”

Shocked at Cas’ commanding tone, Dean had no choice but to follow his directions. First, he shucked off his shirt. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed himself back a little bit so that only his feet lay off the end of the bed. Then, excruciatingly slowly, he lay back on Cas’ bed.

He lay there staring at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. _“Oh god, he’s left. He’s decided that this is a bad idea. What was I thinking? Now I’ve scared him away. Nice job, Dean.”_ Filled with doubt and shame, Dean propped himself up on his elbows, expecting to find an empty room.

Instead he found Cas completely naked, kicking away his pants. The sight alone caused Dean to go hard and his throat closed. The toned muscles of Cas’ torso that had so recently been under Dean’s fingers led their way down to his sharp hipbones. Dean tried to look away but found his eyes continue downward to Cas’ crotch. Cas looked up, saw Dean staring and commanded, _“Down.”_

Dean fell back down on the bed, heart racing and hand itching to get out his own dick. But he remained perfectly still, waiting for Cas.

He didn’t have to wait long, thankfully. Cas walked up to the end of the bed and took hold of Dean’s black pajama bottoms. In one swift motion they were down by his ankles. Before he had time to think, Cas had already reached up and found the waistband of Dean’s underwear. He took his time with them, unlike the cotton pants, moving them lower inch by inch as Dean squirmed under him.

“ _Cas_ ,” he choked out, and suddenly the underwear were gone, same as the pants. “Thank you,” he breathed as his dick felt the cool air of freedom.

Silently, Cas bent over Dean and brought his lips to the hollow space where Dean’s neck met his chest. At first only a cautious tongue flicked out, tasting the salt on Dean’s skin. Then Cas went at it, sucking and pulling at Dean’s neck with teeth, tongue, lips, anything he could think of. He dropped his hips slightly and brushed his crotch against Dean’s open hips. Just the one touch was enough to drive Dean wild and he brought his own hips up to meet Cas, desperate for complete physical contact.

They found a rhythm, grinding their dicks against each other while Cas moved his persistent lips over Dean’s shoulders and chest. Helpless, Dean lay beneath him. He had his eyes squeezed shut, hands dug into the blankets. Then, afraid he would miss something, Dean opened his eyes.

What he saw was enough to set him off and he felt a few messy drops of precome leak from his dick. On top of him was Cas, but it was a Cas that Dean had never seen before, never imagined even in his wildest fantasies. His hair was mused and there was a look of concentration on his face as he rutted Dean into the bed again and again. Beads of sweat had formed on his chest and Dean felt him radiating heat. His tanned body was there, always above him trapping, controlling Dean’s own. His eyes were open but hooded as he examined Dean’s body moving under him. Every few seconds his mouth opened and he licked his lips, panting with pleasure. Precome stuck to Dean’s hip as he watched Cas above him.

Dean’s legs parted fully and he clamped them around Cas’ body, squeezing to urge him to go faster. His arms came up too, fingers digging into Cas’ shoulders. In his gut, he felt himself building, felt the heat rising up. “Cas,” he panted. “I’m gonna, uhnnh, I’m gonna come soon.”

“I know, Dean. It’s all right- _ohhhh_ Dean. Right there, right there don’t move oh _yes_ ,” Cas said, finding a slightly better angle and thrusting faster. Their dicks ground right up against each other, providing the most wonderful awareness deep in Dean’s gut and he let out a moan, arching his back even more to enhance the sensation.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean,” Cas groaned with each thrust. “Please, Dean, DEAN, DEAN, yes, yes, _now_.”

Dean came with Cas calling out his name and all but screamed Cas’ name as he felt the white hot come shooting from his dick. His whole body ached throughout his orgasm, but he reveled in it as Cas continued to thrust against him. “ _CAS_ ,” he repeated, louder, if that was even possible. He felt Cas coming above him, still repeating Dean’s name as if it were a Hail Mary and he sat in the front pew of the cathedral.

He wished he could come again, seeing Cas straining above him, thick veins sticking out on his neck and around his crotch as his dick spasmed, shooting come over Dean’s stomach. Instead, Dean just clung to Cas with all his strength, his fingers clamped around Cas’ shaking shoulders.

Sticky with come and sweat, they lay there until Cas couldn’t hold himself up anymore and he collapsed fully on top of Dean. Marveling at the pure beauty of Cas’ body once more, Dean bent his head and kissed Cas’ strong shoulders. He saw a few lasting impressions from his fingers and even saw that he had broken the skin more than once.

Aware of Cas’ physical exhaustion, Dean carefully rolled them over so that he now sat atop a perfectly naked and perfectly spent Cas. “Just relax,” he whispered, drawing his hands lightly over Cas’ whole body, starting at his collarbone and trailing all the way down to his knees. His hands started moving back up, massaging Cas’ legs as he went. “That’s right,” Dean encouraged, as he felt Cas’ tense muscles start to loosen. He massaged Cas’ hips and moved up to his stomach. Here, he paused. _"Am I really going to do this?"_ he thought to himself. _"You know what, why the hell not."_ Giving Cas a wink he bent down and dragged his tongue along Cas’ stomach, cleaning off the come.

 _“I never thought I’d be doing this,”_ Dean mused. _“Yet, here I am, licking the come off some poor bastard’s stomach.”_ Even though the thoughts were in his head, he winced. _“Not just some poor bastard. Cas.”_

As he worked his way around, cleaning Cas off, Dean felt hands in his hair and look up briefly to see Cas smiling down at him. His fingers scratched lightly at Dean’s scalp, giving him chills. Cas used his fingers to guide Dean around his body, a slight press one way or the other telling Dean where to go. Cas pulled Dean’s lips up over his chest, his shoulders, and up to his mouth. They lay there, kissing slowly until Cas led Dean's tongue back down to his stomach and then pushed him lower.

Dean licked at Cas’ balls, and was rewarded with a slight gasp from Cas’ mouth. Emboldened, Dean brought his hands up to Cas’ balls and took them gently. “Is this okay, Cas?” he asked, gently squeezing and pulling.

“That’s…oh, that’s _good_ , Dean.” Cas said, his voice low.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dean answered. Then, very carefully, he took Cas’ dick in his mouth and began moving up and down the shaft slowly. For a moment he had a fleeting glimpse of Meg performing the very same routine on Dean back in Idaho and he stopped, unsure of himself. But a loud groan from Cas drove the image from his mind.

“Dean…Dean…don’t stop, dammit, what are you doing. Please,” Cas practically thrust himself back into Dean’s mouth. “Don’t stop,” he repeated.

Given a command, Dean could do nothing but obey. His tongue pressed along Cas’ glorious shaft and he began moving faster, along with strong, sure strokes along Cas’ balls. Every few seconds, Cas’ hips would buck up and Dean’s rhythm would be interrupted for a moment. But he worked through the spasms, determined to make Cas come twice in one night.

Dean was no stranger when it came to blowjobs. He had known there was something going on in ninth grade when he had chosen boys in gym class for his teams by who had the best butt. His team always won, and Dean tried to convince himself that he was merely picking the best athletes. Just like any other team captain. But when Roger, a junior, led Dean under the bleachers that night at homecoming, Dean certainly didn’t object. And the next year, when Dean took a large-breasted blonde named Kristy down to the same spot, well that was when Dean decided that he could have the best of both worlds if he damn well pleased.

Working deliberately and forcefully, Dean waited until he felt Cas’ twitches normalize into a pattern and then the two worked together, Dean’s mouth around Cas’ now hard dick, his hands massaging Cas’ balls, Cas’ hands in Dean’s hair, moving with Dean’s rhythm. Close, Dean snaked a hand up to Cas’ chest and gave his nipple a slap. Cas cried out and Dean worked quickly, aware of how close Cas was getting. He took a nipple between his fingers and squeezed, twisting it until he tasted a bit of precome.

 _“Yes,”_ he thought. _“Oh god, he’s going to come in my mouth. Please, oh yes_.”

He rocked against Cas with his whole body trying not to lose his position on Cas’ dick but desperate for more contact, more motion, more physicality. Remembering Cas’ previous reaction, Dean worked Cas’ nipples, pinching and twisting until his mouth was filled with the salty precome. He pulled at Cas’ dick with his tongue, urging him to fill his mouth with that wonderful liquid. One more forceful tug at Cas’ balls and a slap on his sensitive nipples and Cas was coming in Dean’s mouth, fingers digging into his scalp.

“Fuck, oh fuck fuck _fuck yes oh yes Dean DEAN FUCK YES!_ ” he exclaimed, and Dean felt his own dick tighten. Abandoning Cas’ nipples, Dean took his own dick in his hand and pumped once, twice, three times and came almost embarrassingly fast. Came for the second time that night to the sound of Cas yelling out his name.

When he was finished, he slumped forward, flopping down on the bed next to Cas. He stared into those blue eyes, mind suddenly cleared of all thoughts. Nothing was as important as the man laying next to him, covered in sweat and come (again) and Dean wondered how he could’ve ever forgotten that.

He reached out a hand to Cas’ face and dragged a thumb along those impossible cheekbones. Then, using the last of his energy, he scooted closer and kissed the spot where his thumb had just been, just below Cas’ right eye. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he felt Cas pull the covers up over them and pull Dean into an embrace. There, tangled in the sheets with Cas, Dean fell asleep instantly, dreams filled with the beauty of the night sky.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean woke with a start, struggling against the tangled sheets as he fought to sit up straight. He smelled smoke, heard something crackling and hissing as it burned. John’s voice echoed loudly in his head: _“FIRE! FIRE! EVERYBODY OUT NOW!”_

Dizzy from the memory, Dean looked around the unfamiliar room trying to figure out where he was. Books and papers littered the floor. At the foot of the bed Dean saw his cotton pajama bottoms and a dark pair of pants that Cas had discarded hastily in the heat of the moment the night before.  
 _Cas._

Dean froze. This was Cas’ room, Cas’ bed. Of course. How could he have forgotten? He had to find Cas, warn him, save him from the fire.

Frantic now, Dean leaped from the bed and ran naked through the apartment, his heart pounding. “Where is that son of a bitch,” he muttered. He followed the sounds and smells until he came to the source of the fire.

Cas stood before the stove in a neatly pressed white button down long sleeved shirt and a pair of casual black slacks. In one hand he held a spatula while the other hand expertly maneuvered a frying pan of sizzling bacon over the open flame.

Cas’ eyes trailed over Dean’s body, mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of Dean standing naked in his kitchen, chest heaving, sweat forming along his brow, eyes full of determination that was quickly fading to realization and embarrassment.

“I had no idea you liked bacon so much, Dean.”

\--

“Thanks again for breakfast, Cas. And sorry about, ya know…”

Cas shook his head and laughed softly. “I’ve told you- it’s all right. I’m rather flattered by your attempt to save me from the all-consuming evil that my cooking no doubt harbors.”

Dean smiled weakly and looked down at the fabric of his shirt. Fully dressed now, Dean and Cas sat together at the table eating a breakfast of eggs and bacon. Rather haltingly, Dean had explained to Cas about his mother and that tragic night so long ago when she had died. He had avoided Cas’ eyes the whole time, afraid of finding pity or some other weak sentimental crap staring back at him.

Thankfully, Cas hadn’t said “I’m sorry” or “That must have been hard” or any of those other empty words of sympathy that he had heard over the years. Instead, he had just gotten up and fixed Dean a plate of food. After setting it down in front of Dean, Cas went to make his own plate, but not before giving Dean’s shoulder a reassuring pat. Cas’ hand, warm even through Dean’s shirt, was better than any words of consolation.

“The food’s fantastic, Cas. Really, I mean it.”

Cas scoffed. “I know you, Winchester. You’ll eat anything.”

Offended, Dean stood and collected their empty plates. “I’ll have you know that I’m a professional food critic. I’ll eat anything, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s good. But this bacon,” Dean said, placing the dishes in the sink and turning on thee water, “this bacon is fucking fantastic.”

“You don’t have to wash the dishes, Dean, just leave them in the sink and I’ll deal with them later.” Cas said, following Dean into the kitchen.

“It’s okay, Cas. I already started.” Dean squirted a healthy amount of soap on the dishes and swirled the water around until the sink was filled with bubbles. “Besides, it’s fun.” He pulled a soapy hand out of the water and blew the bubbles at Cas. They clung to his shirt briefly and left splotches as the fabric absorbed the moisture.

“Dean this is a new shirt.” Cas groaned.

Dean shrugged and blew more bubbles at Cas, grinning when they landed in the other man’s dark hair. “Take it off, then” he suggested, so quietly that Dean wouldn’t have been surprised if Casn hadn’t heard him at all.

But at Cas’ sparkling eyes and sideways grin, Dean knew his message had gotten through.

Cas unbuttoned his shirt swiftly, throwing it carefully over the chair that sat in the corner. He walked over to the sink and fixed Dean with a threatening stare when he tried to turn and face Cas.

“Not so fast,” Cas intoned. Dean turned back to face the sink, his back to Cas. His spine tingled as he remembered the way Cas had ordered him around the night before.

He felt Cas’ body move behind him, heat radiating from his bare skin. Cas’ hands came up to grip Dean’s shoulders. Slowly, his hands slid down Dean’s arms. Cas’s hands found Dean’s in the soapy water just as Cas pressed his body flush against Dean’s and rested his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean heard Cas inhale deeply and shivered as Cas exhaled warmly in his ear, “I’ve missed you so damn much.” Again, Dean tried to turn and look Cas squarely in the eye but Cas’ hips dug into Dean’s ass, trapping him in place.

“I was so afraid.” Cas continued in a low voice, biting at Dean’s ear now, “that I’d never see you again. And I’d never get to tell you,” Cas paused, his open mouth trailing along Dean’s neck, his shoulders, anywhere his hot breath could reach, “how important you are to me.”

At those words, Dean let his head fall back on Cas’ shoulder behind him, exposing his neck. They fit together perfectly: Cas kissing and licking Dean’s bare neck as his hips rocked gently against Dean’s ass, Cas’ arms still around Dean, hands entwined under the warm soapy water.

As Cas sucked at Dean’s Adam’s apple, Dean pushed slightly away from the counter, moving back against Cas’ hips. He thought he felt a slight bulge in Cas’ pants but it could’ve been nothing. _“No need to get too excited,”_ Dean told himself. _“Just stay in the moment, will you?”_

But a few moments later when Cas’ teeth scraped his jaw and Cas’ hips snapped hard against Dean, he allowed himself to venture out a little and shifted over until he could feel Cas’ cock against his ass. _“Definitely hard”_ Dean concluded, and began pushing himself back against Cas.

He heard a low groan at his ear and smiled when he felt Cas rest his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Kiss me,” Cas whispered, breathless.

Still encircled in Cas’ embrace, Dean tuned slowly, his own arms wet with soapy water. He pulled Cas closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “What do you want?” Dean inquired softly.

“Please.”

“Please what? What do you want?” Dean asked again, pushing Cas away slightly fixing him with a stare.  


“I want you to kiss me.” Cas answered faintly.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“Kiss me, goddammit!”

Dean was still laughing when their lips met. He reveled in Cas’ tenacity. Suddenly there were warm hands on his back and he heard the water splash behind him. Soap bubbles flew into the air as Cas’ wet arms came out of the water to grip Dean’s back. Cas groaned against Dean’s mouth and he pushed against Dean until the counter dug into the small of his back. The pain was quickly overshadowed by Cas’ tongue entering Dean’s mouth, hot and determined.

Dean let his soapy hands travel all over Cas’ bare torso from his collarbone to the dimples just above his ass. Cas’ shoulders were tight as Dean ran his hands over them, feeling the bunched muscles that lay just beneath the skin.

Suddenly Cas’ hands left Dean’s back and their lips parted as Cas bent down and effortlessly picked Dean up, setting him on the counter. Dean felt the seat of his pants go wet and he couldn’t tell if it was from the soapy sink water on the counter or a slightly more personal reason.

Pushing his way in between Dean’s open legs, Cas pulled Dean’s face down to his own and kissed him hard and meaningfully. Dean’s legs wrapped around Cas’ waist almost instinctively and pulled their bodies flush together. He could feel himself going hard pressed up against Cas’ stomach and knew that Cas could feel it too.

As if on cue, Cas’ hands moved from Dean’s face to his hips, playing with the waistline of his pants. Dean gave Cas’ lips one last kiss and then moved down his neck, murmuring encouragements as Cas began to slip his fingers one by one into the waistband of Dean’s pants.

And then somehow, maybe Dean shifted a bit, or Cas lifted on his tiptoes, but somehow Cas had Dean in his hand and it was the most glorious feeling that Dean had ever experienced. He could feel the contours of Cas’ hand as it gripped him firmly, the smooth valleys contrasting with the calloused plateaus. He sucked in a breath when Cas’ hand started moving up and down his shaft, sending electric shocks through his whole body. His hands gripped Cas’ shoulders so tightly that his knuckles went white and he didn’t even notice.

After the initial shock, Dean started working with Cas, getting into a rhythm that drove him wild. He threw himself against Cas’ demanding hand as Cas pumped harder and faster. When he finally came, he came with a pleasured yell, eyes closed and head thrown back. As his body recovered in small spasms and shakes, Dean curled himself around Cas, laying his head heavily on Cas’ now relaxed shoulders.

“Jesus Christ you’re beautiful,” Cas murmured. After a slight pause he whispered softly, “Michelangelo was gay. Makes sense when you see his sculptures and his attention to the male body. Even his female sculptures just look like men with breasts. No one knows if he fucked men, but he sure did love them.” Cas sighed and Dean could hear the smile on his lips.

“Thanks for the history lesson, Cas,” Dean whispered back, “but what’s the point?”

Cas pulled back slightly. “I thought it was quite clear.” Studying Dean’s face, Cas’ eyes suddenly focused in understanding. “Ah yes, of course. You’re still on the self-pity train, bound for Low-Self Esteem Island with a one-way ticket. Well what if I told you that you were a perfect human? Not,” Cas said, raising his voice as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “in the way that you’re thinking. Not in the way that means you always make the right decisions or treat everyone fairly or find the bright side of every situation. But in the only way that we can truly be perfect, and that is by being broken, by being imperfect. You are the perfect human because you are so alive, you are so genuine and flawed and beautiful. You are so unique that Aldous Huxley would fall at your feet and beg for your individuality. Your imperfections would make Nathaniel Hawthorne weep in the face of their beauty. You are so utterly human that it’s like you’ve leapt straight out of a book to be with me now. You are your own archetype.

“Mankind was never created to be perfect, no matter what god you believe in or don’t. It’s plain to see that we’re flawed beings whether it be intrinsically or by circumstance. When humans are put to the test as a race we fail. Imperialism, slavery, communism, oppression. But Jesus Christ as individuals we put up a hell of a fight don’t we? We try so hard to do the right thing and it is this desire to do good against all odds that sets each and every one of us apart. You’re not always right and you will never be faultless but is that not how humans were created to be? We’re not expected to be perfect so by simply being yourself you’ve already proven how perfect of a human you can be.”

Silence followed Cas’ words and it wasn’t until Cas touched his cheek that Dean realized that his eyes had been squeezed shut. When Cas’ fingers came away wet, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted in distress. 

“Dean I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean voice came out gravely and he reached his own hand up to his cheek, disgusted to find tears there. _“Dean Winchester doesn’t fucking cry,”_ he thought with shame.

“Hey. Hey look at me,” Cas said, gently pulling Dean’s chin up. Dean straightened up, a single tear slipping and spilling down his cheek while his lips trembled in defiance.

Cas’ blue eyes narrowed as he took in the man in front of him. Licking his lips, he searched for the right words. “I’ve met a good many people, Dean, whether in reality or in my books. But never have I encountered anyone like you. And I consider myself so incredibly and unjustifiably lucky to be here with you today, holding you in my arms. Surely I am not worthy of your attention. I have made mistakes, I have destroyed the ties I once held with my friends, my family…there is a reason I live alone. But then you called. You excite me Dean, you give me hope and remind me that what once was need not be again. There is a new world out there for us. So cry with me, Dean Winchester. Cry for those you’ve lost and cry especially for yourself but then cry with me for the promise of the future, for change, for joy, for companionship.” Cas helped Dean down from the counter and pulled him into an embrace, arms reaching as far as they could around Dean. “For us.”

Dean let his head fall heavily on Cas’ shoulder and wrapped his arms around the dark-haired man’s waist. Inhaling, he was enveloped in Cas’ natural earthy scent and it transported him back to the day he had left Pearl Harbor, left Cas standing alone on the dock. He had replayed the scene in his head many times. But now there was a persistence to the memory that Dean had never felt before. There was something there, something that he had forgotten and now needed desperately to remember.

In Cas’ arms, Dean let himself be drowned by the memory, the sights and smells of the clouds overhead, the boats all around, the water below. Dean saw his younger self staring intently at a young Cas and almost turned back, feeling a pang of sorrow. They were both so youthful and full of hope that it hurt Dean to even look at the two of them.

He had been trying to say something, Dean realized suddenly. Trying to tell Cas something right before he boarded the boat and it was quite possibly the most important phrase uttered in all of human history.  
 _“…I just…I suppose…if it’s my last chance to say it…Cas Novak, I-”_ And then that dreaded horn blast that eclipsed Dean’s words. Silenced his feelings for the next ten years.

“Cas…” Dean choked out, emerging from the memory as if bursting to the surface of the water after being held under for too long. “Cas. I-” he swallowed, determined to get the words out “I…need you.”

_“Was that what I wanted to say? No surely it’s much more important than that. Goddammit what’s wrong with me?”_ Dean shook his head in frustration.

“No Cas I mean,” he racked his brain. What exactly did he mean? “I need you and I…I…”

“I know,” Cas said firmly. “I know, Dean. It’s all right. I’m here, Dean, I’m here.” He placed a kiss on the top of Dean’s head. “I know.”

\--

Amid the hugging and kissing, they somehow managed to leave the wet kitchen and find the couch. Dean stretched out first, allowing Cas to follow and curl up against his chest. He had calmed down a bit and would’ve felt embarrassed about the scene he had caused in the kitchen but every so often Cas would reach for Dean’s hand and press a kiss into the palm or across his knuckles. Something about Cas’ little act reassured Dean in away he could not understand.

His other hand was lost in Cas’ thick hair, moving all around until he found the spot at the base of Cas’ neck that sent shivers down Cas’ spine. He rubbed the spot thoughtfully, aware of the weight and heat of Cas’ body on top of him. But it was a comfortable weight and a welcoming heat, like a child’s security blanket on a stormy night.

They stayed that way as long as possible, ignoring the still soapy dishes in the kitchen sink and the ticking of the clock as the day progressed. It was a day just for them, the perfect human and the analyzer with too much heart.  



	16. Chapter 16

Around two in the afternoon, Dean’s eyes snapped open. “ _Holy shit I completely forgot about Sam._ ” He tried to stand but only succeeded in throwing Cas to the floor before losing his balance and falling back on the couch.

“Jesus Christ Dean what the hell?” Cas said from his new position on the floor, rubbing his head.

“Sammy. I told him I’d swing by this morning but I guess I was a little preoccupied. Damn, I hope the kid’s okay.”

“He’s a pretty resourceful young man, Dean. I’m sure he’s taking care of himself.”

“Yeah but he shouldn’t have to. That’s my job. My responsibility. Shit, Cas, I’ve gotta go I’m sorry. Thanks for,” Dean made vague gestures with his hands, trying to encompass his feelings from the past 24 hours in a few words, “…everything,” he finished. He pulled Cas to his feet before starting to gather his belongings, searching for his pajamas before he realized that they still lay strewn out on Cas’ floor.

He picked them up hurriedly, aware of Cas watching him. His bag full once more, Dean moved towards the door.

“I’ll be seeing you, Professor Novak.”

“Dean,” Cas said sincerely. Dean stopped and turned.

Taking his time, Cas walked until he had to tilt his face up to see the scattered freckles and clear green eyes of the other man. Wordlessly, he placed his lips over Dean’s in a kiss much sweeter and slower than any previously shared. It was over in a heartbeat but Dean still felt the warmth on his lips as he nodded and left quickly.

\--

Outside in the parking lot as Dean loaded his bag in the trunk and pulled his keys out of his pockets, he tried to replay the entire evening in his mind, starting with their delicious dinner at the diner. By the time he reached Sam’s dorm building, he had just mentally rolled Cas onto his back and started to lick the come from his stomach. Dean’s stomach clenched just thinking about it.

Dean threw Baby in park, clearing his mind of the events of the night before. He hopped out and walked up to the complex, feeling that sense of dread come over him again. _“How could I have forgotten about Sam. Jesus Christ, the kid’s my own flesh and blood.”_

He was just nearing the door when a voice called out, “Dean?”

It was Sam, returning to his dorm with about ten books in his arms and a pack slung around his shoulders that no doubt held even more.

“Sam, hey. What’s going on?”

“Just ran by the library to pick up some extra reading for my classes. My schedule’s a bitch but-”

“But that’s what you get for going to the best goddamn school in the world. I get it. Here, let me take some of that for you.”

Sam dumped the heavy books into Dean’s waiting arms and together they made their way up to Sam’s room. Before they reached the door, Dean could hear soft sounds of music from within.

“Sam what’s-”

“Oh yeah my roommate moved in this morning. Don’t worry he’s a cool kid, I think you’ll dig ‘em.” Sam said with a wide grin, pushing the door open.

The room was filled with light, the curtains were pushed open wide and the window was ajar, letting in a nice breeze. A record player sat in the corner, working hard to churn out Les Paul’s double-time picking.

“Nice music. Brazil, Les Paul. Son of a bitch has got the fastest fingers in the business.”

“Actually, most of the time he’d record the riffs in half-speed, therefore when he sped ‘em up to real time, it sounds twice as fast. Double-timed the listeners and the master recording all at once, if you’ll excuse the play on words.” A young black man turned from his spot by the far wall. “Gordon Walker,” he said, extending his hand towards Dean. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Winchester. Sam’s told me a lot about you.”

Dean set the books down on the floor, threw a glance at Sam and took Gordon’s hand gratefully, shaking it firmly, looking the young man up and down. “Nice to meet you, as well. Call me Dean, though. Where you from?”

“Red Lodge, Montana. Right up near the mountains. Sam said you’re from Idaho?”

“Born in Kansas, raised in the Navy. That’s my motto.” Dean said with a small amount of pride. No matter what their father had done, Dean still appreciated the life of morals that the son of a bitch had brought them.

“Admirable.” Gordon hummed the last few bars of the song before the record ran out and the needle clicked off.

“So what brings you to Stanford?” Dean asked, watching as Gordon searched for a new song.

He finally selected a beat up Orioles album and set the needle to the record, swaying slightly as grainy chords filled the room. “I guess it was my sister. A few years ago she was…taken. Kidnapped or abducted, however you wanna put it. My family didn’t do shit, just sat around on their asses moaning about it. I thought about going into the force you know, police work, but the way those sorry bastards handled my sister’s case…Anyway, I finally decided that they only way to honor her memory was to distribute justice where it’s most needed and I figured I’d start with the courtroom. So here I am at Stanford Law School, looking to kick some ass and convict all the criminal sons of bitches I can.”

Dean whistled. “That’s quite a story, kid. Best of luck to you.”

“Thanks. What do you do? You seem like a no-nonsense workin’ man.”

“I’m a mechanic back in Idaho. Work seven days a week, 365 days of the year.”

“Dean can fix anything but he has a special thing for cars,” Sam chimed in. “Rebuilt the Kaiser sitting out there from the ground up in what, six months?”

“More or less,” Dean said, looking at the floor.

“That’s a hell of an accomplishment,” Gordon said, disbelief written on his face as he regarded the car from their window.

“I was motivated. She’s a real nice ride.”

“I’ll say.”

In the background, Sonny Til’s mellow tenor voice crooned:

 _Though I'll cry when she's gone_  
I won't die, I'll live on  
If it's so, it's too soon, way too soon to know

Gordon’s eyes closed for the last two chords, full of sorrow and remorse. “Tragic. You know the story, don’t you?”

“November 1950,” was all Dean said, nodding.

Sam looked between the two. “Would anyone mind filling me in?”

“The group was traveling in two separate cars in their hometown. Baltimore. Gaither drove one, with Reed and Nelson as passengers. He took a corner too fast and lost control of the car, rolled down an embankment and crashed into some drive-in restaurant. Gaither died instantly, the other two severely injured. Luckily Til and Sharp were in the other car and only had to hear about when they got home. The band was never really the same after that.”

“Ah,” Sam replied. “Well, I may want to just leave you two alone. You seem to be getting along pretty well oh Dean I almost forgot- how was last night?”

The question hung in the air, a tight silence seemed to press down on them form above. Dean took a choked breath, head whipping in Sam’s direction.

“Fine,” he finally let out, his voice sounding strange in his ears. He tried to swallow discreetly but felt both Sam and Gordon watching him intently. “It was uh- it was fine. Can I talk to you for a second?” Not waiting for an answer, Dean grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him into the hallway.

“What the hell was that?” he hissed.

“Just trying to check in on my favorite brother,” Sam shot back.

“You got a problem, Sam, you better tell me here and now because I want this cleared up before I leave.”

“Yeah when exactly is that again?”  

Dean threw his hands up in the air. “Dammit Sammy! What do you want me to say, huh? That everything’s gonna be hunky dory even though our dad just came back from the dead and you’re burnin’ rubber to get away, leaving me clutched out on the curb? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Dean-” Sam started, a look of annoyance flitting across his face. He took a breath, well aware that Dean was in one his moods. “I’m just a little on edge with all this college stuff and everything’s just moving so fast and I don’t know what to do.”

“Well for starters, you could stop riding my ass.”

“Yeah, Dean, I’m trying to say sorry okay?”

“You’re not in the courtroom yet, hot rod, no need to get all defensive against me.”

“Okay thanks I’m getting the picture.”

“Just letting you know how I _feel_ ,” Dean said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

That pulled a smile from Sam. “Don’t get all sentimental on me, Dean. It’s not becoming for a man as tough and macho as yourself. Speaking of which, how _was_ last night? With Cas? Without going into too much detail because I may not want to know the play-by-play, if you know what I mean.”

“Well first I took his cock in my han-”

“OKAY OKAY I GET IT PLEASE STOP I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW THANK YOU,” Sam exclaimed, turning away from Dean and practically running back into the room.

Dean followed, eyes bright, a smile permanently stuck across his face as he let himself revel in the moment. “I would’ve come sooner but I was a little tied up,” he ventured, watching Sam’s face closely.

As expected, Sam’s eyes narrowed at Dean’s words and then went wide, his mouth falling open. “Dean please no.”

“Kidding. Sorry, couldn’t let that one just slip past.”

“You are a pain in the ass,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“Double entendre,” Dean replied.

Sam stared at an empty space on the wall, trying in vain to hide his spreading smile. “Damn I walked right into that one. I think I’ll just stop talking now.” He let out a short laugh and Dean was struck by how much he didn’t know about Sam’s life.

Sure, he knew Sam, knew what he liked and didn’t like. Knew what made him tick and what shut him off. But he didn’t know much about his experiences, like who his friends were, if he ever went to the Friday night football games down at the senior high school, who his first kiss was. He racked his brain and came up empty. Sam had always been fairly private in his life, only sharing what he needed to and keeping the rest to himself.

“Sam who was your first kiss?” he asked suddenly, desperate to learn all he could about his little brother who stood before him like a stranger.

“Excuse me?” Sam squeaked, looking across the room to where Gordon was unpacking and hanging his clothes.

“I was trying to think of who it was but I can’t recall you ever saying anything about it. Why’s that? Who was it?”

Sam shook his head. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Just tell me who it was,” Dean urged.

“Don’t say anything,” Sam spoke tentatively. “I mean it, don’t laugh!”

“I am the picture of maturity at this moment.”

Taking a deep breath and glancing only briefly at Dean, Sam let his eyes fall to the bed and whispered, “Lucie.”

Dean gawked. “Lucie? Like _the_ Lucie? Hell’s very own Lucifer Attar? Jesus Sam, when did that happen?”

“Whenever it was that they came by. Few months ago, maybe.” Sam’s voice trailed off.

A low whistle escaped through Dean’s teeth. “Damn, kid, I know she screwed you over but I didn’t realize she was your first kiss. That’s uh…that’s tough.”

“I told you not to say anything, Dean! Why are we even talking about this?”

“I don’t know I was just curious,” Dean replied with a shrug. “Don’t mind me. Hey have you had lunch, yet? I know a great burger place.”

\--

Dean was in such a good mood that he paid for everyone’s meal, including Gordon.

“Thanks, Dean. I mean it. And nice suggestion, the burgers.”

“Yeah they make ‘em pretty good out here in California.”

Sam had been fairly withdrawn the whole meal, trying to figure out Dean’s recent intrusion into his personal life. That stuff just didn’t really seem important to Sam in Idaho. He was never going to see those people again anyways. It only made sense to focus on what at hand, like getting into college, and then he could worry about dates and girls and going steady later.

He had gone to the prom this past year and had had a fun time. He had asked a girl from his history class to be his date, even bringing her a rose to try and convince her. She said yes but she had made it very clear that they were just going as friends and so he was not surprised when she disappeared off with some other guy late in the night.

But now he was in college. He had made it. This was supposed to be the time of his life. And damn it all if he wasn’t sitting here all sweaty palmed just thinking about that kiss with Lucie in the kitchen.

 _“Pull yourself together, Sam,”_ he mentally chided. _“This is a new beginning. Don’t screw it up.”_

Forcing himself back to the present, Sam found Dean and Gordon deep in conversation.

“I’m no lawyer but there’s gotta be laws against that. Come on, I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong. It was the closed shops that the Taft-Hartley Act smashed. Union shops, which is basically what you’re talking about, are still allowed.”

“What’s the difference?” Sam spoke up for the first time.

Gordon eyed Sam. “Union shops,” he said, enunciating slowly, “mean new employees, recruits if you will, have to join the union within a certain period of time. But there’s conditions: something called a collective bargaining agreement and another requirement that has to do with the worker’s contract. So it’s essentially a big ploy to get everyone in one union or another, but the way they work the law, it’s legal. Pretty remarkable legislation if you ask me. Sneaky bastards.”

“Anything else for you gentlemen today?” the waitress asked.

“No thanks, we’re just leaving. Meal was great,” Dean said, eyeing her up and down and flashing her a grin. She gave him a sly smile and dropped her eyes, drawing attention to her chest and the little yellow and blue nameplate that was pinned there, reading “RUBY”.

“Well come back soon.” She made her way back into the kitchen, giving their table one last look.

“Damn cast an eyeball at that one she’s stacked.” Gordon marveled.

Sam snickered.

“What, you wanna quarrel or something?”

“No it’s just that Dean’s sorta already involved with someone and I don’t think they’d be too happy with him if they saw him right now, practically drooling over some waitress.”

“Some waitress? Man did you see her? I’ll bet this isn’t the only job she’s got. Works a night shift somewhere, if ya know what I mean.” Gordon raised his eyebrows. “Damn I gotta get me acquainted with the night life.”

Sam just shook his head. “Whatever you say, man. Dean, you ready?”

“Yeah let’s go.”

\--

They dropped Gordon at the library and continued back to the dorm building.

“You really think that waitress was that pretty?” Sam said suddenly.

“Hell yeah I did,” Dean answered.

“But Cas-”

“I’m not gonna do anything about it I just appreciated the way she looked. Is that so bad?”

“I don’t know, Dean I just didn’t like the way Gordon was talking. Like she was just some asset he wanted to scoop up and add to his collection.”

“The kid does have a businessman’s heart. No but I get it,” Dean said, as he sensed Sam getting upset. “I know what you’re talking about and I wish I could do something about it. But is there, really? That’s just the way the man thinks.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses, is what I think,” Sam muttered.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry he’s a little bit of a scumbag? Personally, though, I like the guy. He’s cool.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam looked out the window for the rest of the ride, eyebrows knotted in contemplation.

\--

Walking towards his dorm room, Sam noticed a piece of paper stuck to the door, fluttering around even in the stillness of the hall. As he got closer and closer his mind raced to several different conclusions. But as he stood reading the note, Sam’s mind went blank, unprepared for its contents.

On instinct alone, he ran back down the stairs of the building, hoping and praying that Dean hadn’t left yet. Because he needed his older brother to calm him down, to tell him what to do.

The paper in his hand read:

           Winchesters:

           If want to know the truth about your mother’s death, go to the quad at midnight tonight. If a Japanese attack

           didn’t kill your father, what makes you think that it was a fire that killed your mom?

           X


	17. Chapter 17

Sam ran as fast as could, lungs burning as he caught up with the Kaiser. Dean pulled over and got out quickly, his smile slipping as he looked into Sam's face.

“Sam. Sam! What’s going on?”

Sam shoved the paper at Dean, his whole body trembling with adrenaline.

Dean scanned the note, looked up at Sam briefly and read the note again. And then again. Slowly he felt the horizon melting away, flipping the world upside down and swirling it around until nothing was where it had once been.

Dean’s head was spinning, he didn’t remember how he had ended up on the ground, his limbs felt impossibly heavy and his vision was blurry and distorted. Images swam in front of his eyes, flashes of light from that November night and Dean could swear he felt the heat from the imaginary flames. He tried to shut his eyes and force the memories away but the flames found their way to the insides of his eyelids, burning against his eyes.

Gasping, his eyes flew open against his will and saw the fuzzy outline of Sam standing over him, saying something. Sam’s mouth was moving but there were no sounds to be heard above the roaring flames in Dean’s mind. He tried to figure out what Sam was saying. Watched as his mouth moved in a sequence of syllables, vowels, there a slight pause, and he was off again, yelling something at Dean’s deaf ears.

An electric shock went through Dean’s body and he was back in Sam’s nursery in Kansas. No flames any moreThe memory was incomplete, the details indistinct. But then, was it really a memory at all? Something seemed off and Dean realized quickly that he was in one of his old nightmares.

It was the one where his mother sat on the floor next to the crib, John standing off to the side. He looked positively predatory. Dean swallowed, tense as his father moved forward to stand over Mary. He wound his hand in her blonde hair and she turned just slightly until she could see him in the corner of her eye. John bent down, pulling Mary into his chest in a comforting embrace. Despite his care, Mary’s eyes remained bright and strong on Dean's.

And then he whispered a single word in Mary’s ear and her composure was gone in an instant, a scream tearing from her throat. Dean cried out and ran to his mother’s side just as his father disappeared as if into a fog.

“ _Mom_ ,” he said urgently.

“Dean,” she breathed. Her eyes fluttered shut in relief.

“Mom I need you to tell me what Dad just said. Please, Mom, can you do that for me?”

Eyes still closed, Mary grimaced in pain.

“Please Mom this is really important. What did he just say to you that made you so upset?”

“He said…he said,” her eyes flew open, “ _Adam_.”

Dean stared at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. I don’t know who-”

“Tell Sam I’m sorry,” Mary whispered, looking at Dean sadly.

“F-For what?”

Mary stayed silent and Dean reached out to shake her, to make her explain what was going on. But just at that moment she burst into flames, knocking Dean over on his back and he could only watch in stunned horror as Mary vanished into the heat and light of the fire.

_“Dean!"_

It was Sam yelling this time, yelling Dean’s name and reviving him from the painful nightmare. They sat on a curb somewhere with the Kaiser parked over in the street. Belatedly, Dean felt a dull pain in his palm and looked down to see his car key digging into the fragile skin, drawing small beads of bright red blood.

“Dean. What do we do? Class starts in only two days I can’t deal with this shit right now I thought I was getting away from all of this,” Sam exclaimed.

“Sammy,” Dean said feebly. “Sam…” He grabbed at Sam’s sleeve and pulled him closer. “I saw Mom.”

Sam stopped. “What do you mean,” he continued warily.

“It was a dream, but then it wasn’t. It felt so real-”

“A nightmare,” Sam stated so mater-of-fact that Dean looked up into his younger brother’s eyes. “I get ‘em, too,” he explained. “But you saw Mom just now? In the middle of the day?”

Mute, Dean nodded. “She wanted me to tell you that…she’s sorry.”

Sam looked away and up at the bright blue sky, blinking rapidly. “For what?” He had never really known his mom, that was true, but was that really what she wanted to apologize for? It hadn't been her fault, after all.

“She didn’t say. But Sam, I saw Dad, too. And he said something to Mom that made her really upset. Sam, do you know anyone named Adam? Maybe a family friend or a past lover of Mom’s? Whoever he was, Mom was really _really_ cut up about him for some reason.”

“I have no idea, Dean. Why don’t we focus on what’s going on in the present?" Sam asked pointedly. "The note? I mean, who would know about Mom and Dad and why would they follow us here?”

“Well we know for sure that the Attars have some kind of a hand in this. Other than that, I’d wager some of Dad’s navy buddies or maybe someone from back in Kansas? Maybe this Adam guy.”

“So do we go tonight and see who shows?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Sam. That’s looking like the only plan so far. Unless you know a better way to find the sick fuckers behind this.”

Sam shook his head. “We’re going to need some witnesses, though.”

Here Dean hesitated. He could call Cas but he really didn’t want to drag him into all of this. The last thing he wanted to do was seem needy or afraid. But at this moment, he was more than afraid. He was terrified.

He brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes until he saw spots, trying to piece together a plan. This was Dean’s job, the thing he did best- taking charge and taking care of Sam. But he felt so utterly alone sitting there on the pavement in the autumn wind. So vulnerable and entirely helpless. Sure, Sam was there sitting right next to him but it was a different kind of loneliness: the kind that finds you in a crowded room, the kind that creeps up and settles gingerly on your shoulders before attaching its vice-like grip around your neck, the kind that locks you behind the wall, unrelenting and unbreachable.

It was going to be damn near impossible to think of something while the image of Mary engulfed in flames found him every time he turned his head. He needed help, he needed answers.

Dean opened his eyes and squinted in the sudden brightness. “I can call Cas if you want,” he said at last. “But I want to call Bobby first.”

\--

Dean and Sam stood in the narrow hallway off the main lobby of the dorm building, taking full advantage of the complementary landline phone.

“So’re you boys going out there tonight or what?”

“Well, that’s what we’re calling about, Bobby. Sam and I, we don’t know what the hell’s going on or who would even do this. So we’re hoping you have some answers?”

“I can do nothin’ for ya, son. I know only as much as what you’re telling me. I wish I were more of a help-”

Sam tapped Dean’s arm urgently. “Ask him about Adam,” he whispered.

Dean nodded, the receiver pressed up against his ear. “Few more questions, Bobby. You ever hear Mom mention someone named Adam? Or maybe Dad knew him?”

The line went completely silent and Dean was almost convinced that Bobby had hung up until he heard a slight whisper on the other side of the line.

“ _Where did you hear that name?_ ”

“So you know it?” Dean said, straightening up and listening hard, motioning to Sam.

“How could I not know it. Jesus Christ. Question is: how do you?”

“I had a uh…I’ve always had these nightmares ever since Mom died. And this one I’ve had more than once but this is the first time I’ve heard of this Adam guy. What’s his deal, Bobby? What did he do to Mary? He hurt her or something? Because if so I swear to god-”

“Adam’s dead.” Bobby said flatly.

_“Shit,”_ Dean thought. _“There goes another source of information we really needed.”_ Aloud he asked Bobby, “So who was he?”

“Adam was your mother’s first child. Your older brother, Dean, and Sam’s too I guess." Bobby took a deep breath as Dean stood in stunned silence. "They were newly weds, Mary and John, and life was great. I remember it well. They had the world ahead of them, just the two of them against the rest of the world. And then, Mary got pregnant. For anybody else, it would’ve been a dream come true but John, he got it in his head that the kid wasn’t his or that there was something wrong with it, I don’t really know. Anyway, so the kid’s born and they take it home just like any other family. Two weeks later we’re filing into the church for a memorial service: the poor child suffocated in its sleep, something that happens if the baby flips over in its sleep and can’t right itself. Tragic. Tore Mary apart obviously.

"But what I’ll never forget is the next weekend, Mary called me over when John was out of town and told me the real story. Said John had been moping around the house, refusing to hold little Adam or even look at him. And then one night they were all up in the nursery putting the kid down for his bedtime and John just took the blanket and smothered the child. Just held the blanket over him until he stopped breathing, and Mary’s watching all this happen, screaming and kicking at John but he won’t be, can’t be stopped. John told her that if she ever spoke a word to anyone about it he’d do the same to her and so of course she stayed silent as long as she could. But going through that does things to a person that I can’t even begin to understand. A mother losing her firstborn child at the hands of her husband? The grief, the pain, the rage must be just unbearable. So she told me. And I had to swear on everything I held dear that I wouldn’t talk about it or do anything to John. Looking back now, I suppose she told me incase something happened to her and I had to testify. I was a confidante. A witness of sorts.

"I expected them to split after that but they remained married and Mary even got pregnant again. Things seemed to go back to normal. She brought you into this world, Dean, and then Sam not long after. And she was happy. She loved your father, that’s what you’ve got to understand. He’s done some really awful things but Mary was his rock and they were genuinely happy together.

"That’s all I really know, honestly, and I’m sorry you had to hear it like this. I never thought…truthfully, after all these years I find myself doubting Mary’s story as I look at you two boys. John’s got a hell of a lot of problems, that’s for sure, but I don’t know if I could really see him- I don’t know, Dean. I just don’t know.”

Dean’s knuckles had turned white from gripping the receiver so tightly and by the time Bobby finished speaking, Dean felt like he was going to throw up. He thrust the shiny receiver towards Sam and practically ran to the nearest restroom, breaking through the doors before hunching over a commode.

Bobby’s words tumbled in his head as his stomach churned and Dean dry heaved, sweat forming along his forehead and his back. Could it be true? Mary had had another son? Dean’s older brother? Why had he never seen pictures, or heard stories? Bobby’s account had sort of explained it.

John had thought there was something wrong with Adam so he had killed him and erased any traces that the kid had ever existed.

That brought Dean’s lunch back up. _“What sick son of a bitch would do something like that?”_ Dean asked himself, leaning his head back and collapsing down on the floor. _“Apparently the same motherfucker who would make his kids believe he was dead for ten fucking years just so he could clean some shit up.”_ Flushing the toilet, Dean stood uneasily and walked out to the sinks. He splashed his face with cold water, trying to wash away the smell of sick that hung in the air.

Out in the hallway, Sam was staring intently at the floorboards, his face twisted in pain as he swayed back and forth. He couldn’t find the strength to look up as Dean walked up and took the receiver from his limp hands.

“Bobby? It’s me, Dean. Thank you. For telling us. It’s not how you wanted and it’s sure as hell not how Mom wanted us to find out. We’ve got to meet whoever’s out to get us. Me and Sam, we’ve got to find the sons of bitches behind all this. We'll be in touch.”

“Dean…” Bobby sighed. “Be careful.”

“Right.”

Dean hung up the phone.


	18. Chapter 18

Dean finally gave in and called Cas, trying to hide the panic in his voice. Cas, of course, knew immediately that something was wrong and all but threw the phone across the room in his hurry to get to Dean.

They met up outside the dorm building, Cas’ car screeching to a stop in one of the parking spots. He pushed the heavy door open and stepped out, a million questions already forming on his lips.

Dean merely handed him the note from Sam’s door and waited for him to read it.

“I do not understand,” Cas said after staring at the note for some time.

“Welcome to the club, daddy-o.”

“Who could this be from? Who would do this?”

“Your guess is as good as ours in this one, Cas.” Dean said, shaking his head. “But that’s not all. Earlier I had a…I learned something that I wish I hadn’t. My mom, she had a kid before me. Adam. I was her second child. I mean, the first kid was John’s so it’s nothing like that,” Dean rushed to explain at Cas’ expression, “but he hated the kid for some reason. Said there was something wrong with him even though the little guy was perfectly healthy and all. So he…well the details are a little fuzzy but Bobby said Mary was convinced that John smothered the baby. Killed him.” Dean pursed his lips and looked up into the afternoon sun. It had seemed so foreign when Bobby talked about it, almost like he was talking about someone else’s shitty life; surely this couldn’t possibly be his own history. But now, explaining it to Cas added a whole new level of reality. This was his life now. He would have to live with this crushing burden of knowledge until he died. That or went insane. Whichever one came first. “Anyway, I think this Adam stuff has something to do with Mom’s death, with the note and all that. So there’s that.” Dean finished lamely.

Cas’ eyes were bright with pity and his voice was sincere when he spoke. “Dean, Sam, may I offer my condolences. This is much bigger than any of us anticipated. But it begs the question: what are you going to do?”

“Shit, Cas, _we don’t know_. Everything’s turning to shit and there’s nothing we _can_ do. We can’t stop it. All we can do is show up tonight and find the son of a bitch responsible for this. If anyone’s got any other ideas, this would be a good time to speak up.” Dean looked between Sam and Cas. “Because I got nothing.”

Sam shook his head and looked past the others across the campus. “This is insane.”

“I am to be your witness tonight?” Cas asked, putting everything together.

Dean nodded.

“Have you told anyone else about any of this? Your father reappearing, the note, Adam?”

“Gordon may have seen the note. I couldn’t really tell how long it had been there or anything. I was a little panicked.” Sam said.

“And understandably so,” Cas said quietly. “So the only people who know are the three of us here, John, Bobby, and maybe Gordon?”

“The Attars,” Dean spat out, “they’ve known since the very beginning. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew about Adam, too.”

“Let’s assume they do. What’s the point of all this? What’s their endgame?” Sam wondered aloud.

“You can’t apply logic to these fuckers. There’s no reason for what they do.” Dean replied angrily.

“Maybe the reason is simply because they have no logic?” Cas tried.

“Psychopaths.” Sam clarified. “You’re saying our father is a psychopath.”

“Nothing’s written in stone, Sam, but perhaps it’s a possibility worth exploring. Do you have complete knowledge of your father’s medical history?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“One that proves you can’t know if there’s a tendency of mental illness that explains your father’s actions.”

Sam took a few steps back and turned like he was going back into the building. But he stopped, turning back with his hands on his hips, his muscles tight with exasperation. “Well what are we supposed to do about it?” He asked, looking to Cas for an answer.

“I don’t have any solutions, I was just looking for explanations. Which,” Cas turned to Dean, “are not the same as excuses. Nothing excuses John’s behavior. This just may explain it a bit better.”

“Yeah yeah I get it, Cas.” Dean said, patting the man on the shoulder. “But what we really need right now is a plan. So maybe if we could focus on that for a while?” He gave a forced smiled but his eyes remained cold.

“Dean,” Cas said suddenly. “Can you think of any reason why your father would want to hurt your mother?”

“Excuse me?”

“Something just occurred to me. We’ve been looking at this note like it’s a threat, some crazy fucker ‘out to get you’. But what if it’s a warning? Reading it again, it doesn’t seem particularly malevolent in nature. Sure, wording’s a little harsh but you must remember the author is still somewhat distant from the effects of the events, namely the death of your mother, and cannot possibly be delicate enough or aware of your precise situation without living through similar circumstances. So what if the author is looking to warn you somehow, to help you, to open your eyes to the world of John’s lies? He’s certainly not been very open about his life, hiding Adam’s existence from you and faking his death. Perhaps the author of this note is on your side. Or at least against John. Of course, that narrows down the suspect pool into an area where we have no footing. The only people we know to be both cognizant of past and recent events _and_ on your side happen to be Bobby and myself, and it is safe to assume that neither of us wrote the note as Bobby has not the means and i have not the motive. So now we have to find someone who not only knows what’s going on and sympathizes with you boys, but also has the means to reach you here at Stanford and leave a note so conveniently on Sam’s door.”

The brothers stood in stunned silence following Cas’ sudden analysis. Finally Dean spoke up, his voice filled with admiration.

“That…was amazing.”

Cas blinked, his head tilting sideways in that way that made Dean want to grab him and pull him close. “You think so?”

“Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was fucking extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people normally say. My students, more specifically, do not seem to enjoy it.”

“What do people normally say?”

Cas smirked. “Piss off.”

Even Sam smiled at that.

“All right. So if we’re going with Cas’ theory, the note-writer is a good guy and is gonna meet up with us tonight to warn us about…something. John, probably.” Dean reiterated.

Cas nodded. “Until then, I would think about my previous question: can you think of any possible reason why John would want to hurt Mary? Because the author of the note is making it seem like maybe the fire that killed her wasn’t an accident.” His voice was gentle but the words still hit Dean hard. John had loved Mary fiercely, anyone could see that. Even after all that he had done, would he really try to hurt _Mary_?

Dean was four years old again, out in the yard as his house burned. But his mother was still inside. He moved almost in slow motion, trying to get his legs up to speed to get back through the burning house and find her. But just as he was able to stand, he was overpowered by a heavy weight above him, forcing him back down to the ground.

It was John, his steel grip on Dean’s shoulder keeping him in place. It was John with his eyes blazing and ears deaf to Dean’s cries. It was John that kept Dean from his mother. It was John that made Dean too late to save her.

“He killed her,” he choked out.

Everything was slowly falling into place. The fire Marshall asking a million questions about how a fire could’ve started in the coolness of a November night. His father breaking off contact from their neighbors. His father grieving in public, in front of the cameras, but then disappearing into the night and coming home days later smelling of alcohol and cheap perfume. His own goddamn father stopping him from going into save Mary because the plan had been all along to kill her.

“He started that fire and then he made sure she didn’t come out until the house was burned to the ground.” His voice was low and he couldn’t stop it from breaking on the last words.

“Dean what the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked incredulously.

“He set our fucking house on fire and let our mom burn inside it. Probably had been planning in for years. Ever since mom told Bobby about Adam. He knew. He knew that she knew that he was a monster. And he hated her for it. Because every time she looked at him she saw her dead son. So he killed her.”

“Why? Why would he do something like that? They were in love!”

“He’s a sick son of a bitch. What else can you say to that? I’m gonna find that fucker and I’m gonna kick his ass and I’m gonna do it for mom.” Dean’s vision had started to go black around the edges as his anger built up. “And then he fucking left us for dead on Pearl Harbor. Probably had to tie up some loose ends about Mom’s death, that bastard. That’s how the Attars knew he was alive. They’re his safe house, his confidantes. Jesus Christ.”

Sam looked to Cas. “Is this possible?”

“It would explain John’s disappearance. It’s possible that someone raised suspicions about Mary’s death and John had to flee. We can’t say for sure but at the moment it is looking like a plausible explanation.”

“I’m going after him,” Dean announced.

“No,” Sam and Cas said at the same time.

“We’ve been worshiping a goddamn murderer our whole lives and he’s let us believe that he’s just a hard-working single father doing the best he can. Well fuck that. I’m gonna find him and I’m gonna-”

“Gonna what, Dean?” Sam said. “Gonna kill him? Then how does that make you any better than him? Besides, how are you even gonna find him. And when you do, what then? He’ll just shrug the whole thing off and make you look like a dick. And then you know what’ll happen? You’ll become a threat to him and you’ll have to be eliminated. I can’t let you put yourself in that kind of danger. What we need is cold hard proof and a confession. And we can’t get that if you’re both dead.”

“Then what do you want me do? Huh, Sam? Just wait it out, maybe write a little note saying ‘It’s okay that you killed my brother and my mom by the way, Happy Father’s Day’?” Dean yelled.

“Adam was my brother, too, Dean,” Sam yelled back. “And at least you knew Mom before she was taken from us. Did you ever think about that? I’m gonna take a wild guess and say no. Because whenever shit like this happens you seem to think that you’re the worst off and there’s nothing to do but hunker down and just _suffer_. Well that’s bullshit. We’re all suffering, Dean, but you don’t have to let it consume you. It’s not like you’re alone here. I’ve been there for you literally my whole life and that’s not going to change. And now Cas is here and I don’t want to jump to any conclusions but I think it’s safe to assume that he’s not going anywhere.” Cas, next to Sam, nodded at Dean, a slight smile on his lips. “So if you’d just pull the stick out of your ass, we could maybe get some work done.”

Dean held Sam’s gaze defiantly. Sam was right, naturally, but it was hard to hear. Dean was supposed to be the adult, taking all responsibility, and shielding Sam from as much as possible.

“May I?” Cas asked Sam, gesturing towards Dean.

“Go for it,” Sam said, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“You are not disposable, Dean Your life is more important than anything this world has to offer, especially something as mundane as revenge against a father. It’s not worth it. This is where you belong. We need you here, Dean.” Cas said, moving slightly forward towards Dean.

Dean ran his hands through his cropped hair in exasperation and stood tall, fingers laced behind his head.

“I need you,” Cas said quietly.

“Fine,” Dean grunted. “But if I even catch a whiff of my bastard of a father, I’m going to take the son of bitch down. I’m just saying I can’t make any promises.”

“The archetype of the perfect human remains intact.” Cas marveled, closing the gap between them. He pulled Dean’s hands into his own. “You, Dean Winchester, are a literary professor’s absolute dream.”

“Good thing I know where to find one,” Dean replied.

Cas moved in to kiss Dean and Dean let him, his hands finding their way to Cas’ face, tracing the light stubble along his jaw. The late August wind swept around and Dean felt Cas melt under his touch. How he wished he could lay Cas down on the green grass and just rip through him-

Sam, finally recovered from the sudden shock, cleared his throat and coughed loudly.

Dean almost jumped away from Cas at the noise, his face flushed a deep red. Cas also looked sheepishly around, like a dog being scolded.

“Okay well since I’ll never get that image out of my head, why don’t we just move on a pretend like that never happened? I’m going to go to the library and ask Gordon if he’s seen anything or anyone suspicious around our room recently. You two can go do…whatever it is that you need to do, but for god’s sake do not tell me about it, do not talk about it, don’t even think about it when I’m around. I don’t want to know. All right. Good plan. Uhh bye.” He turned and walked quickly away.

Dean and Cas shared a look.

“He’ll be okay, Dean. He is an adult, after all. He can take care of himself.” Cas said finally.

“Right.” Dean replied reluctantly. “Now, uh, where were we?”

\--

They made it into the Kaiser before completely tearing each others’ clothes off, a feat that Dean found impressive given the tightness of his trousers against his hard dick.

“Shit, Dean, I need you _right fucking now_ ,” Cas grumbled against Dean’s cheek, his hands grabbing at the hem of Dean’s shirt.

Dean smiled and pulled the other man on top of him. Undoubtedly one of Dean’s favorite things about Cas was the way his professional demeanor seemed to evaporate when he was aroused and ready for Dean. One minute he could analyze the shit out of two completely vague sentences using downright prehistoric vocabulary yet the next minute he was a sex-demanding fiend who cursed like a sailor.

“Take your fucking clothes off before I come in your ass, you piece of shit.” Cas growled at Dean, confirming his thoughts.

Still laughing, Dean helped Cas and together they unbuttoned Dean’s shirt and pulled off the undershirt that he wore underneath. Cas ran his hands over Dean’s torso, feeling the muscles of his shoulders, his chest, his stomach.

“I really hope no one walks by right now.” Dean said, laying on his back on the backseat of the Kaiser. Cas, above him, flicked his eyes up to quickly scan the street and surrounding sidewalk. With a devious smile, he pulled his own shirt over his head.

“All clear.” The dark-haired man returned his attention to Dean who lay directly under him. “No one around for miles. Which means you’re all mine.”

Dean couldn’t help but shiver at the words and let out a soft cry when Cas lowered his open mouth to the sensitive skin just above the waistband of Dean’s pants. His tongue danced across the skin, leaving Dean breathless. Afraid to look directly at Cas, Dean locked his eyes on the ceiling above him, licking his lips and trying to steady his breathing. His hips began to move under Cas’ mouth, jumping up slightly no matter how hard Dean tried to stay still.

As Cas made his way back across the expanse of Dean’s stomach, he began using his teeth to contrast the velvet of his tongue, giving Dean quick little nips and then sucking at the tender skin afterwards. “Good,” Cas murmured. “You’re doing good.”

Unable to speak, Dean just nodded slightly, eyes still fixed on the ceiling above him. He glanced down out of habit, just for a second, and found that, much like the night before, he could not look away. Cas’ dark hair brushed Dean’s stomach ever so lightly as the other man lowered his head to drag his wet tongue along his bare skin. As he neared Dean’s chest, Dean caught a glimpse of Cas’ face and found his eyes were closed, eyebrows drawn together as he tasted Dean between his lips. Something about his expression, all the concentration and care to make sure Dean was pleased, broke a wall down in Dean’s heart. Suddenly his whole chest ached and the throbbing of his dick was forgotten.

“Cas,” he started quietly, not wanting to break the man’s concentration. But he could not go on, he could not find words to describe what he felt. And so he simply reached down to where Cas was now licking his way up Dean’s chest and gently pulled Cas’ face to his own, letting their lips meet on their own.

It was a tender kiss at first but with Cas biting at Dean’s lips and Dean’s hands finding their way around into the back of Cas’ pants, it transformed and grew until they were each pulling and pushing hard against the other, bodies flushed together. Dean sucked at Cas’ tongue in his mouth and was rewarded with a sharp snap of Cas’ hips against his own, reminding him of the possibilities that remained below.

Dean pulled Cas to him as the other man bit at his ears and neck, giving Dean a chance to catch some fresh air. But he couldn’t stand it long; he needed Cas on him, in him, around him. He just needed _Cas_.

His hands gripped Cas’ ass and as their lips met once more, Dean inched his hands further down, taking advantage of Cas’ split legs and running a finger across Cas’ asshole. The response was immediate, Cas moaning into Dean’s open and demanding mouth and his hips arching, pressing his hips into Dean while his ass opened to Dean’s hands.

_“He wants this,”_ Dean thought in a daze. _“Hell,_ I _want this.”_ Moving his fingers around the edge of Cas’ asshole again, Dean tried to remember where he kept the lube. _“Probably the glove compartment? Am I that responsible? It just seems so…logical,”_ he thought desperately, aware of Cas moving above him.

Unexpectedly, Cas pulled his lips from Dean’s teeth, hair mused. “Oh shit. This is not how I wanted this to happen,” he whispered, avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Cas, hey, what do you mean?” Dean asked softly. “Is everything okay? Did I go too far? I’m sorry I should’ve asked or something-”

“No no it’s not that- it’s not you. I’m enjoying this, I really am. But this was supposed to be for you, I was supposed to help you relax and now you’re ready to fuck me. It’s just…it’s not what I wanted to happen.”

Dean felt suddenly very awkward and very exposed. Cas didn’t want to fuck? More specifically he didn’t want to _be_ fucked, not by Dean at least.

“Oh,” he answered dumbly. He knew he shouldn’t ask, he was afraid of the answer honestly, but he figured he had nothing left to lose and so he whispered, “What did you want to happen?”

Cas face seemed to brighten and he looked into Dean’s green eyes. “I could…show you.”

Now completely confused, Dean only nodded. “Of course,” he said belatedly.

Cas was smiling that crafty smile again and for a moment Dean felt a hope in chest again. _“Maybe everything will be okay after all.”_

“You’ll have to, uhh remove your hands from their current position.” Cas said.

“Right.” _“So it is a problem with me,”_ he thought. “Sorry I just thought-”

“No need to apologize, Dean. I was enjoying it, I really was.”

_“Sure,”_ Dean thought to himself.

“In fact, I very much imagined our positions being switched. Would you mind…? Also we’re going to need some lube. That is, if you want to do this.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to fuck _me_??”

“I was going to take things slow and just try a few fingers today but if you don’t feel comfortable-”

“No no no it’s completely okay with me believe it is more than fine I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“I wanted to help you relax and I thought that this would be a good way to accomplish that. I never meant for you to have to do anything you didn’t want to do, to give more than you received.”

Dean stared in the bright blue of Cas’ eyes, searching for the basis of his logic. “Dammit Cas how could you possibly think I’m not getting anything out of this? Surely your literary mind can do some super analysis and see how much I enjoy pleasing you. So believe me when I say that I just as happy giving as I am receiving.”

Cas lowered his head, staring vacantly at Dean below him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I kinda ruined the moment.”

But Dean shook his head, running his hands through the thick waves of Cas’ hair. He didn’t slick it back like every other man Dean knew. He just let it run wild and it fell in dense swirls all over his head, each individual strand its own shade of brown or black. It was artistic the way the light hit off it and illuminated all the different hues and Dean marveled at the beauty of the man sitting astride him.

“Didn’t ruin it, really. Just provided a new opportunity for something else to happen. And I’m sure there’s a literary word that makes that sound a lot less cliché.”

“Plot twist, alternate resolution, arguably negative capability, hopefully not Deus ex Machina because that’s just poor writing-”

“Stop talking,” Dean said gruffly, but he said it with a smile as he pulled Cas down for another kiss. He took his time, gently silencing Cas’ words with his lips, soft and open and warm. He wanted Cas to know that this was enough, that he didn’t need to be fucked to be content. There was so much more that Cas had to offer and Dean didn’t want him to think he was just there for some great sex.

_“Dear god help me,”_ he prayed silently as he pulled away from Cas just slightly and tried to find the right words to explain how he felt.

“This is going to be just about the sappiest thing I’ve ever said,” he began haltingly, “but if I don’t tell you now I’m afraid I never will. You…I’m the happiest I’ve ever been when I’m here. With you. And I don’t know if you feel the same way but I do know that being around you does something to my chest and it’s sorta hard to breathe and I have to physically force myself to look at something other than you. Because you’re captivating, Cas, and damn it all if I don’t tell you enough. My life, hell, life in general is pretty shitty but somehow you make it bearable. You make it better than that though. It’s not just bearable it’s…enjoyable. And it’s not just the sex and the kissing and all that, which is great by the way. But it’s something deeper, something truer and _new_. And I thank you for that. So,” he swallowed roughly, “yeah.”

Cas brought his lips to Dean’s cheek and whispered, “Allow me to not only accept your thanks but to offer my own, along with my praise. You make me question if perhaps there really is a God. Because it had to have been a deity that thought you up and brought you into existence. That is how much you mean to me. And just being here with you brings me the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt in my life. And I hope that I never have to go without it.” Cas’ lips traced along Dean’s forehead and down his freckled nose before they stopped, hovering above Dean’s own. With a slight shiver, they stayed that way, eyes closed, satisfied to just be close to one another.

Finally Dean felt Cas’ muscles relax as he let his lips lower to meet Dean’s with a slight sigh. They kissed slowly and meaningfully in the late sun. And that was more than enough for the both of them.


	19. Chapter 19

Late August 1953--Stanford Quad, Midnight

“Bet you're glad you brought that jacket now, Sammy,” Dean said, words barely making it through the strong wind. Sam, well aware of Dean’s small victory, said nothing.

It was chillier than he’d expected for a summer night, but then, nothing was really what he thought it was anymore. Sitting under the yellow glow of a light post, Sam rubbed at his eyes. Dean was right- everything was turning to shit. But Sam was determined to keep going, to see things through until the very end. No matter what. And besides, what had Bobby always told them?

_If you’re going through hell, keep going._

And that was exactly what he planned to do. They’d figure out who had left them the note, find out what else they knew, and then maybe confront John. But really just the truth would be enough for Sam. He wasn’t exactly crazy about confrontations and he tried to avoid conflict at all costs. He just wanted to know what the hell was going on. And then after it was all sorted he could go back to being a normal kid, a student with his whole life ahead of him. There was so much he wanted to learn, so much he wanted to do. He wanted to change the world, dammit. How was he supposed to do that without a degree?

Sam sighed. “What time is it?” he asked for the fifteenth time.

“Twelve-oh-three.” Cas replied instantly.

“Son of a bitch is late,” Dean said, getting restless.

“Maybe we’re overreacting,” Cas tried.

Sam shook his head. “Maybe we got something wrong?”

“Maybe _‘we’_ should cut a girl some slack,” a voice from the darkness said, echoing through the trees.

“Depends,” Dean called out carefully. “Who are you?”

“Did I really make such a fleeting impression? I thought Sam at least would remember, him being so _noble_ and all.” A young woman stepped into the light, her dark hair shining in the yellow glow.

“You’re late.” Dean huffed.

“I just finished my shift at the diner about three minutes ago so you can fuck off. You should be thanking me, in fact.”

Sam watched the woman as she talked, taking in her faded mustard yellow work dress and dirty apron slung over her shoulder. And she was right. He did remember her. It was the waitress from the diner, the one that Gordon had seemed so…enthusiastic about.

“Uhh Ruby, right?” he said, getting to his feet.

“There we are. Nice to meet, you, Sam. Dean. And this is…”

“Professor Castiel Novak.” Cas offered.

“ _Professor?_ Shit you guys don’t mess around.” She stood with her arms crossed over her chest in the cool of the night. “I’m here to help you.”

“Is this a joke?” Sam asked cautiously.

“No. I swear it’s, well, God’s honest truth…or whatever.”

“Listen, there is some really serious shit about to go down and I’d really appreciate it if you’d either tell us what the hell is going on or shut your pie hole.” Dean said, taking a step towards the woman.

“Not so fast, Dean.” Ruby said. “You think I’m just gonna spill my guts without some security?”

Dean pursed his lips and regarded Ruby through dead eyes. “What do you want? And how do you even know what’s going on? How do you know about our parents? Who the hell _are_ you?”

“One thing at a time, big boy.”

Dean flinched at the nickname.

“Interesting,” Ruby said, shifting her gaze to Sam. “I’m here to help but I want you to call off your attack-dog brother, here. He says one more thing, I’m gone.”

“We understand. Don’t we, Dean?” Sam asked Dean in a way that left no room for a disagreement. “Just tell us what you know.”

Ruby took a deep breath. “The first time I met John Winchester he was fucking my mom. Right in the middle of our living room. I was just a kid, nine or ten, but that’s some serious shit for a little kid to see. I didn’t tell my mom what I saw. How could I? I was embarrassed, hell, I was _scared_ ,” she said, shaking her head. “But then he started coming around and taking us out for dinner and shit and I had to have fucking conversations with the guy. It was surreal. It didn’t last long, obviously, but long story short I knew some stuff about him that I wasn’t supposed to know. Stuff I don’t think anyone was supposed to know, really.” She picked at the hem of her sleeve. “Anyway, I heard some shit about John’s ex-wife, or who I thought was his ex. Mary. I found out later that she was dead. Sorry about that.” Ruby paused, looking into Sam’s eyes with what he could only describe as sympathy. Which was strange coming from this seemingly cold-hearted woman he’d only just met.

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah well…that was a long time ago. But you said in the note that you knew something more about her death? That maybe it wasn’t a fire.”

“Oh it was a fire, all right,” Dean said, speaking up for the first time, his voice dangerous.

“Okay so it was a fire.” Ruby shot back. “But what I’m saying is that it wasn’t just some freak accident like if your old man left the stove on or had a candle too close to the curtains. It was intentional,” she articulated.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Dean exclaimed.

“Dean,” Cas said, reaching out a hand to try and calm Dean down.

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” he yelled.

“Dean, _please_. Just lower your voice a little.”

“Fucking _bastard_.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Sam asked Ruby, trying to keep his voice level.

“It’s like I said: I knew a lot of things I wasn’t supposed to. And one night after he fucked my mom and tucked her into bed, he got on the phone and just spilled it all. Kind of a sloppy move but he’d had a few drinks and it wasn’t like he was a super straight-shooter anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the guy was insane.”

“Insane, how?”

“Insane like crazy. He wasn’t all there…upstairs, I mean. I don’t know! Enough with the game of twenty questions, okay?” Ruby protested. “You mind if I smoke?”

Sam looked around. “You asking me?”

She pulled out a long slender cigarette and lit up, blowing the smoke back towards Sam. “Well I sure as hell ain’t asking James Dean over there,” she said, gesturing towards Dean.

“Drop dead,” he muttered.

“Cute. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that your father’s a dangerous man and it would be in all our best interests if you cut him out of the picture, get it?”

“Why’re you telling us all this?” Dean asked suddenly. “You trying to win the Outstanding Citizen’s award? Or you got some sorta…angel on your shoulder or something?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a chip on yours.” Ruby shot back, taking a long drag from her cigarette as she watched Dean fume. “Honestly, I’m interested in you.”

“Well you got a funny way of showing it.”

“Not you, daddy-o. Sam.”

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation, looking to Sam with threatening eyes. Sam, however, was looking at Ruby.

“Interested in me? Why?”

“Because you’re tall? I love a tall man." She said sarcastically. "And then there’s the whole noble lawyer thing. Don’t you think it’s a bit ironic?”

“What?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “And here I thought Stanford was for intelligent beings. Don’t you think it’s a little ironic that while you’re here learning about justice under the law, your father’s the one who needs it the most?”

“You’re saying he needs to be locked away. Imprisoned.”

“I’m saying the man’s a fucking lunatic who needs to own up for his actions.”

Sam took a long look at Ruby, watched her until she looked away and down at her feet. Her hands seemed to shake as she brought her cigarette to her lips. As she took a drag, the end glowed softly, accentuating her large eyes and high cheekbones. She pointedly avoided Sam’s eyes until he stepped forward slightly, blocking Dean and Cas from her view.

“Ruby…did he hurt you?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking away quickly. “This is ridiculous. I’m not talking about this here. Not now.”

“Look, it’s okay I understand. I just need to know the truth.”

But Ruby shook her head. “I told you everything I can tell you right now. If you really want to know the rest, you know where to find me.” She dropped her cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her shoe. “Nice talking to you. Give John Wayne and Gabby Hayes over there my farewells and whatnot.” And she turned and walked quickly back across the quad, head low.

“What the hell was that?” Dean said when he realized she was leaving.

“I have no idea,” Sam muttered.

“Well I for one am not about to jump on board with the raging bitch. I don’t care what kind of dirt she’s got, or thinks she’s got, on John. I am staying far, far away from that.”

\--

Sam was at the diner first thing the next morning, asking for Ruby.

She came out from the back, eyes wide and curious until she saw Sam standing in the diner. A slight grin crept across her face and her dark eyes sparkled.

“Well look who it is,” she said, fixing Sam with a slightly intimidating gaze. But her smile betrayed her as she took in the younger Winchester. “You look even better in the daylight, Sam.”

“Cut it out, Ruby, this is serious.”

Her smile turned to a nasty smirk. “I’m a little busy at the moment, thanks.”

“Ruby I need to know what happened between you and my father. You want him to come to justice, you gotta give me all the facts. Understand? Otherwise this isn’t going to work.”

She bit at her bottom lip and looked back towards the kitchen. “I’ve got to work all day but my dorm’s not too far from yours. If I give you the address can you meet me there around ten?”

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah yeah ten sounds great.”

Ruby scribbled her address down on her blank notebook and ripped the page out, handing it to Sam. Even when he had grabbed it she didn’t let go. “And come alone,” she said tightly.

“No problem.”

\--

Sam left the diner and headed out in the bright morning sun, clutching the paper with Ruby’s address on it tight in his hand. Folding it carefully, he put it in his pocket and took a deep breath.

“This is insane,” he whispered to himself. Class was going to be starting any day now but all he could think about was what was going on with John. How was he supposed to sit through his freshmen seminars and focus on the lectures when his psychopathic murderer of a father was out there waiting for him? Waiting for him to come home for winter break so they could all cozy up to the fire and open Christmas gifts together and make snow angels and pretend like their family wasn’t royally fucked up.

Sam shook his head. His high school guidance counselor had told him that besides grad school, the first semester of his freshmen year would be one of the most trying times of his life. _“No kidding,”_ Sam thought now. _“She has no idea.”_

\--

Dean spent the night at Cas’ place again that night, this time waking slowly and content. He stretched out lazily, ignoring the protests of the still exhausted body of Cas next to him. And honestly, Dean couldn’t blame him. They had had a late night, what with waiting up for that bitch Ruby who had basically just told them everything they already knew. And then coming home at one in the morning, well, things had gotten a little wild. No sex but still…Dean knew his clothes were strewn across the whole room but he honestly couldn’t care less. With Cas he didn’t have to worry about that kind of stuff. Turning on his side, he squinted at something hanging from the fan above him. Was that…his _underwear_?

“Hey, Mr. Comatose, wake up,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ ear, pulling him in until they fit together, Cas’ back to Dean’s front.

Cas turned his head this way and that, trying to get away from Dean’s breath in his ear but his attempts were futile. Dean wound his bare legs between Cas’ and used the strength of his arms to keep Cas right where he was.

“Dean, _please_.” Cas’ morning voice came out low and gravelly. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Hmmm. Nice manners will only get you so far. Sometimes it necessary to use a little more…force.” Dean began moving in that way that made Cas insane, his dick rubbing against Cas’ ass with its morning hardness.

“Oh Jesus Christ Dean was that a pun? Really?” Cas groaned softly. Soft sunlight found its way through the blinds and fell across the bed in a pattern of wide stripes.

Dean just grinned, moving his arms around until he could get his hands into Cas’ hair, pulling his fingers through the thick waves in a crude sort of comb. With Cas in this makeshift headlock, Dean began moving faster, more forcefully against Cas.

Cas responded with a soft noise and began to thrust back towards Dean on the offbeat of Dean’s movements, making Dean hyperaware of how hard his dick was getting. But he wasn’t satisfied.

“Cas, I need to…see you,” he let out.

Together, they shifted so that they were face to face, trying not to lose contact.

“Much better,” Dean whispered when Cas was finally facing him. In the bars of light, Cas’ face was illuminated and it brought chills to Dean’s skin. He lay a soft kiss on Cas’ forehead and let his mouth hover there in the warm morning light.

He could feel Cas’ body heat beneath his lips and against his own body. He thought of them together in the car, what he’d thought then was a fiasco. But he knew now why Cas had stopped him then. And again when they had come home form meeting Ruby. He understood.

Of course sex was sacred to Cas. He’d studied far too many stories where it was abused and exploited and neglected. It certainly wasn’t a problem with the physical activity of having sex, because Cas had made it clear that he was more than proficient in that area. But it was the emotional demands that Cas held in reverence. _“He gave Meg a fucking photograph and a legitimate phone number, for god’s sake,”_ he reminded himself. _“He wants to be able to commit himself fully to a person and if he can’t…”_ Dean shook his head clear.

All that emotional shit had always been foreign to Dean. He never really felt regret after leaving his lover in the morning, usually sneaking out and never truly saying goodbye. He’d gotten what he came for and now they could go their separate ways. And if their separate ways happened to converge later on down the road, he’d take the heat or slip back into bed with his ex-lover, whichever came first. That had always worked for Dean.

But now, with Cas, he wanted to respect the other man’s wishes, to stick around even if there didn’t seem to be an immediate benefit for him to be there. He wanted to be _with_ Cas, sure, but he loved just being with Cas and for the first time in Dean’s life, that was okay.

Just when Dean was ready to untangle himself from Cas and get some breakfast started, Cas spoke, his voice hushed.

“Dean. Stay with me. Forever, okay? And I mean it this time. I know we said it when we were kids but that was so long ago. I want this, I want you, and I’ll want you until the end of time. And even then, I’ll search the heavens until I find you again.”

Not sure how to respond, Dean just kissed every spot of Cas he could reach, starting at the crown of his head and covering him in soft caresses. When he reached Cas’ collarbone he flicked out his tongue and tasted the salt of his neck, letting out a light sigh. Nestling in to the hollow space, he was surrounded by Cas’ irresistible earthy scent and he let himself remember that night they had spent under the stars back on the navy base. Both so young but already so passionate and inextricably and profoundly bound.

Dean involuntarily cringed at the memory, so full of hope and possibilities and the unknown. He felt the crushing weight of guilt pressing down on his chest and he found it hard to breathe. All he knew was that he had to hold on to Cas or he would surely drown in it all.

“Dean?” Cas asked quietly. “Are you okay?”

Eyes burning with unshed tears, Dean just curled in close, laid his head on Cas’ bare chest and listened to the other man’s heartbeat. _“Dean Winchester doesn’t cry, dammit. Why does this keep happening to me?”_

Cas’ arms came up around Dean in an embrace, strong and sure. He kept Dean close and showered him with kisses. Listening to the steady beating of Cas’ heart, Dean felt his own heart slowing to a more regular pace and he let out a grateful sigh. He felt rather than saw Cas smiling as he relaxed more and more.

“You brave, brave man,” Cas whispered. “I know what will make you feel better.”

Dean was jostled about a bit as Cas pushed himself up and slid out from under Dean. He crawled across the large bed, the summer sun from outside the windows throwing dark and light stripes across his toned body. Mystified, Dean laid back on the pillows and let his eyes slide out of focus until Cas’ body was just one more blur in a sea of smudges. His mind went blank and he slowly closed his eyes in contentment.

Not long after he had completely relaxed, though, he felt a cold sensation right by his dick and his eyes shot open. Looking down he saw Cas, a grin on his face and a container of lube in his hand.

“Cas!” he exclaimed.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cut it out. What are you doing?”

Cas looked slightly offended. “Well I was _trying_ to take care of my boyfriend but if my services are no longer required-”

“No wait Cas come back. Please. Yes, please please whatever you want to do…I’m yours.”

At Dean’s words Cas smiled that unique smile, the one where you could see almost all his teeth because he was smiling so wide. Dean felt like it had been a lifetime since he had seen that smile and he smiled back automatically.

Cas grabbed ahold of the edge of the sheets and yanked them aside, suddenly exposing Dean’s naked body to the light. Goosebumps rose along his arms and legs as he lay helpless under Cas’ gaze.

“Damn you’re beautiful, Dean.”

Cas practically lunged at Dean and Dean was there to meet him, mouths moving hard against one other in a flurry of teeth and tongues and incoherent words. Their bodies melted together, Dean wrapping his legs around Cas above him.

“Oh fuck Cas,” he said, pulling the other man closer and shamelessly thrusting up at him.

“You’re pitiful, you know that, Winchester? Fuckin pitiful sonuva bitch,” Cas slurred, his hard dick pressed up against Dean. He moaned as Dean thrust up again, this time with more force.

“It’s my most attractive feature,” Dean countered.

“We’ll see,” Cas said, laughing dangerously. “How bout this?”

Keeping eye contact, Cas lowered himself until he was inches away from Dean’s dick. Instead of taking it, though, he moved up and down Dean’s body, teasing and taunting him with just the slightest touch of his lips or pressure of his fingertips. Every time he came back up to Dean’s chest he would sneak a quick kiss to Dean’s lips or his cheek before diving back down. “You’re doing so good,” he purred.

Finally he took Dean’s dick in his cool hands and Dean gasped at his touch. Cas nodded and licked his lips. “How’s that feel? Yeah that’s good, isn’t it?” He began squeezing and pulling at Dean’s dick. “You want this?” he asked Dean playfully.

“Yes, Cas, YES. I want _you_ , goddammit!”

Licking his lips once more, Cas took Dean in his mouth and the sudden warm and tight feeling sprung up deep in his stomach. Cas’ mouth was hot, so hot and Dean couldn’t resist it. He began moving his hips in time with Cas. “This…this isn’t fair-uhhh.” Cas had Dean all the way in his mouth and was using his tongue to apply irresistible pressure in all the right places. “UhhhHH CAS OH FUCK-”

Suddenly the heat was gone and Dean looked down to see Cas grinning back up at him. The sight made a drop of precome slip out of his dick. “Shit Cas.” But Cas just sat there grinning. And then very, very slowly- painfully almost- Cas reached out and picked up the lube. Silent except for his laughing eyes, Cas took a healthy amount in his hand and turned his attention to Dean’s asshole.

“Come on, baby, open up for me,” he said, spreading Dean’s legs. The lube was cold against Dean’s flushed skin and he shrunk back from Cas’ hand. But at one look from Cas, Dean was back in position, obedient and waiting.

“Please Cas just fuck me already,” he moaned as Cas played around the edges of Dean’s asshole.

“What was that?” Cas asked in that annoying way of his.

“ _Fuck me_.”

“What?”

“FUCK ME BEFORE I DO IT MYSELF.”

“To every thing there is a season,” Cas started, his fingers seeming to find their purpose. “A time to be born, and a time to die…a time to love…” he trailed off. “Irony, Dean. It’s a beautiful thing,” he said breathlessly, slipping a few fingers into Dean and smiling at Dean’s satisfied groan. “Although perhaps…quoting the Bible during gay sex…requires a category…all its own?” Cas was panting by now, thrusting his fingers into Dean, opening him up.

“I know I haven’t exactly been fair to you in this regard,” Cas said matter-of-factly, his fingers fucking Dean right in the ass. “You deserve…so much more. But see Dean…the thing is I don’t like having sex.” Cas lined himself up with Dean’s hole, encouraging Dean to spread his legs open a little more. “That’s it baby,” he murmured. “I don’t like having sex,” he repeated, “I like _making love_.”

All in one motion he pulled his fingers out and pushed himself into Dean slowly and deliberately, driving Dean mad.

Dean let out a loud cry and arched his back, offering himself completely to Cas. His hands gripped at the sheets of the bed as Cas fucked into him again and again and again.

“Oh FUCK yes Cas Cas Cas,” he yelled.

“That’s good isn't it? How’re you feeling now?” Cas grabbed at Dean’s hips, pulling and pushing to establish a rhythm. “YES DEAN how’s that,” he moaned. “Oh Jesus Christ Dean you’re fantastic, you’re amazing, you’re brilliant yes that’s right.”

Almost desperately, Dean moved against Cas until he felt Cas’ dick ramming into that spot, that one special spot that was just waiting to be discovered. His whole body responded immediately, arms coming up to grasp Cas’ shoulders, legs shaking with the effort to open up for Cas. And then Dean felt it, that sense of utter completeness. He felt whole for the first time in his life.

And he rejoiced in it, taking in Cas’ sweaty body above him and working his hand around his own dick, pumping with Cas’ rhythm and grunting every time Cas hit that sweet spot. The worries of the world fell away and Dean felt free in a way that he had never felt before. And he knew what Cas was saying, what he meant about making love, not just having sex. Because the two were different and how could he ever go back after this?

“FUCK YES DEAN THAT'S IT,” Cas yelled. He bent low over Dean, angling his body to reach as far inside of Dean as he could.

“OH CAS JESUS CHRIST FUCK ME GOOD YES CAS YES OH FUCK,” Dean cried out as Cas used the last of his strength keep up their pace. Dean used his free hand to reach around and grab Cas’ ass, marveling at the muscles that snapped Cas’ dick into Dean again and again and again.

They came almost at the same time, Dean pumping his dick as it spasmed and shot out its white hot liquid onto Cas’ torso. At the sight, Cas let out a guttural moan and with one final thrust he was coming inside of Dean. They ley there clutching at one another in the hot, sticky, sweaty aftermath. Cas pulled out of Dean and laid down on his back next to him, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

Dean didn’t know what else to do so he went about his work quietly, licking up his sticky come off of Cas’ trembling body. When he had finished he flopped back down beside Cas, both sufficiently exhausted.

His mind was racing. So _that_ was sex with Cas.

_“No,”_ he chided himself, _“that was making love to Cas. Definite difference.”_

And it was a difference that Dean could get used to.


End file.
